State of Grace
by Hiiro-No-Ame
Summary: Gabriel's gone and the only one who can help the Winchesters is a mysterious woman. What will they learn about the archangel in the process of sending Lucifer back to hell? Gabriel x O.C
1. Casa Erotica

The Winchesters popped the Casa Erotica DVD into Sam's computer with an air of trepidation. God only knew what the archangel had put onto the inconspicuous, little disk. The movie started out as most porn does, crappy music, scantily clad blonde, terrible dialogue.

The only thing off was the sudden appearance of their favorite archangel, complete with terrible accent and ridiculous fake moustache. The brothers watched him cross the room with an air of horrified fascination.

"What. The. _Hell_?!" Sam was pretty sure he had never heard Dean sound so horrified over porn before. That fact alone almost made seeing Gabriel, archangel of judgment, messenger of God worth seeing in a cheap porn. _Almost._

As if he could feel their stares porn Gabriel suddenly turned and faced the screen, "If you're watching this," he dropped the accent, and pulled off the ridiculously, fake moustache with a suggestive waggle of his brows, "that means I'm dead."

"Well crap…." Dean shot Sam a worried glance. They may not have liked the guy, ok; they _really_ didn't like the guy. When push came to shove though, the ass had pulled through for them and fought his own _brother_ for their sake. He'd also been the most powerful sort of-ally they had, and face it; everyone was going to take you pretty damn seriously with an archangel at your side. The Winchesters hadn't wanted Gabriel dead, just in a lot of pain, and now he was gone, leaving them nearly ally-less in this never ending fight against the apocalypse.

"Stop crying," their eyes shot back to the screen, "you're embarrassing all of us." Porn Gabriel smirked at them through the computer screen, "We have a few matters to discuss boys, so buckle down and listen well." He proceeded to tell them, in detail, about the horsemen's' rings, and their ability to trap Lucifer back in his cage.

Porn Gabriel held up a finger mockingly, "There's onnnne little catch though. You need a woman."

Dean snorted, "Don't we all?"

Gabriel's amber eyes softened, his normally sarcastic voice took on a tender tone, "She's a special woman boys. I know we've had our…differences," Dean laughed mirthlessly cutting out part of the audio, "need to watch her. She's," amber eyes took on a faraway look, like Gabriel saw something that they couldn't, "incredibly important to me. Me dying," he let out a weary sigh that seemed to come from his very soul…or whatever it was that angels had in place of souls, "it's going to put her in a bad place."

Sam nodded pensively, sympathy shooting through him against his will. Gabriel had obviously known he was going to die if he stood up to Lucifer, he knew he'd have to leave this mystery woman behind to fend for herself if he did, and he'd done it anyway. He'd gone up against his brother and paid the price. Sam couldn't help but wonder if it was really worth it, couldn't help but wonder what is must have felt like for Gabriel to walk to his death, knowing in the back of his mind that he'd be bringing pain to this woman he seemed to love.

"Besides," Gabriel's tone lost its tender edge, "if you want Luci back in his cage, you're going to need her. She is the _only_ one who can put him back. Why you may ask. Well the answer is simple. The _correct_," he smirked smugly, "version of revelation foretells that the witness will be privy to the final battle between Michael and Lucifer. She, my mutton headed friends, is _the _witness. As she witnesses this little 'Sunday dinner' of ours she can push Lucifer back into the pit and lock him there."

"Well that's handy," Dean looked over at Sam who was listening thoughtfully, no doubt the Boy Scout was thinking of all the nice ways they could convince this woman to join their heroic little cause.

"She can only open the cage, _at the right moment_. No sooner, no later. She is paramount to your success, if she gets hurt and can't open the cage you idiots have 0% chance of locking Lucifer back up. You mutton heads better take damn good care of her," Amber eyes took on a wrathful glow, and the brothers were instantly reminded of the fact that Gabriel was the archangel of judgment, and even though they knew he was dead, they'd better not fuck this up because some way, some how he'd come back and rip them a new one.

Amber eyes dimmed with sadness just as suddenly as they had illuminated with wrath, "Because I can't do it anymore."

A picture popped up on the screen, and the Winchesters were surprised at the appearance of the woman in the photo. She was short, with a full bust and tapered waist that led to ample hips and athletic legs. She obviously carried a few extra pounds on her frame, but instead of giving her an unhealthy overweight look, it gave her an air of comfort; like you could hold her for hours without wanting to let go. Pale hands pushed shoulder length auburn curls out of laughing brown eyes.

Her picture disappeared, and porn Gabriel gave them a knowing and possessive look, "Her name is Marguerite Von Heßton. She lives in Indianapolis, and I'm sure even a couple of idiots like you know where that is. 4689 Cardinal Avenue. She's a Chinese and English teacher at Pike high school."

"A teacher," Dean gave the screen an incredulous look, "_this_ guy hooked up with a friggin_ teacher_?"

"Oh please," Sam shot Dean a knowing look, "you'd get with her too. In fact you'd get with anything that has two legs and boobs Dean."

"She gets home around five at night," Gabriel gave them a look like he was giving an order not a suggestion, "so there's time to patrol the neighborhood and make sure everything is safe."

They watched silently, almost respectfully, as Gabriel took a moment to compose himself, face turned away from the screen momentarily.

"I need you to go back to the hotel, and find my blade. And for the love of Dad do _not_ touch it with your bare hands. Take my jacket and wrap it around the damn thing first. Give it to Rita. She'll know what to do with it.

The pervy smirk resurfaced, but it seemed hollow and forced, "So boys, this is me standing up," He pointed to the blonde lying on the bed, "and this is me lying down." The archangel fell to the bed and proceeded to do various dirty things to the overtly theatrical blond beneath him.

Sam shut the laptop with a dull click, "Ok no."

"Couldn't agree more Sammy," Dean let loose a devious smirk, "though I will admit the guy obviously has finesse."

"Dean just," Sam got into the car with a disgusted look, "don't even go there."

He climbed in right after grinning like an idiot, "Couldn't help myself Sammy, look on your face totally worth the soap I'm gonna have to drink for saying that." Dean turned on the car and glanced at the address, "Least we're in the right state."

"Dean, what if she doesn't know about any of this?" Sam held up his hands at Deans exasperated look, but trudged on anyway, "Hear me out before you bite my head off. What if Gabriel never told her about…any of this? We can't just show up to her house and drag her with us kicking and screaming. I'm pretty sure that's not what Gabriel had in mind when he told us to take care of her."

"We might have zero choice here Sammy. This Marguerite is apparently pretty damn important and full of angel mojo," Dean drove down the highway and sighed, "I don't like the idea anymore than you do Sam. Look if it comes down to it we can show her the DVD and hope like hell hearing it from Gabriel himself will sway her."

"It's worth a shot. I hope it works."

"Me too Sammy, me too."


	2. Mystery Woman

Marguerite's chest had been aching since late last night. She'd awoken from her sleep sometime around midnight by a violent, searing pain radiating from her chest and the mark on her hip. The pain was consuming; it stole the air from her lungs, and left her gasping like a fish on a dock. The part of her brain still capable of rational thought feared that she was in the middle of a heart attack, and without Gabriel there to help her she was in a world of trouble. Her fingers clawed the delicate skin of her chest without her consent, as if they were trying to pull the pain out of her body.

As suddenly as the pain attacked, it faded. The searing pain radiating from the center of her chest faded to a dull ache, and the violent burning from Gabriel's mark faded to an annoying twinge. Almost like a sunburn that wasn't sure it wanted to blister. In the absence of pain a startling emptiness formed. The emptiness was nearly as excruciating as the pain; it formed a hollow void inside her, left her feeling cold and terrified.

She crumpled to the floor fighting tears as the emptiness continued to consume her. She was so _empty_; she feared she'd never fill the void. She'd stayed like that through the dark of night, even past the speckling of light that shone above the never-ending horizon.

Convincing herself to go to work had taken ages. She'd spent the entire day rubbing her chest in a desperate attempt to disperse the stinging ache that had settled there. She'd plastered on a fake smile, and taught all her classes with an award winning disposition. It took all her willpower to actually stay throughout the day, no matter how much she loved her students.

Now she just wanted to go _home_. She wanted to lie down and call Gabriel to her. Wanted him to hold her, and tease her, and be his usual annoying self. She wanted him to quell the lingering emptiness that had taken root in her soul. And hey, he might even bring some gummy bears this time.

She was barely able to get herself home without wrecking her car, and the fact that she actually made it to her little driveway in one piece astounded her. She turned off her little car, aptly named Loki, and stared at the wheel. She was completely unable to convince herself that moving into her house was necessary. She felt so brittle, like the smallest gust of wind could shatter her to little bits. She couldn't shake the nagging voice in the back of her mind that something was _wrong._ Like the earth wasn't spinning in the right direction.

Marguerite finally dragged her body out of the car and into her cozy little house, but only after a ten minuet prep talk and some pretty exaggerated self threats. She walked in shakily and collapsed onto her ugly, purple couch in a boneless heap. She didn't even bother to check the devil's trap hidden under her rug, her lover was an archangel; if she really needed help it was a thought away.

She let her head fall back onto the couch arm with a dull thump and pushed unruly auburn curls out of tired brown eyes. She felt so disassociated, like she wasn't even in her own body. The apathetic numbness creeping along her skin scared her far more than she cared to admit, and she decided it was high time she called her favorite archangel to her for some long overdue snuggle time. She closed her eyes and called out to him silently, praying as loudly as she could. She felt so off, and she knew without a doubt that Gabriel could fix her easily.

Endless minutes passed and nothing happened. Dread curled inside her heavily, twisting her insides painfully and leaving a burning trail from her chest to her stomach. She sat up slowly, looking around the room warily. Marguerite half expected Gabriel to pop out of nowhere, signature shit eating grin plastered all over his smug ass face.

"Gabriel?" The silence pressed in on all sides and with it the emptiness that she had tried to ignore. It grew rapidly, crushing her until her chest roared with pain, and she saw her vision swim as the room swirled around her.

Dull rapping broke through her haze, hazy brown eyes shifted to zero in on her front door blankly. She couldn't find the necessary drive to get up and answer it, couldn't even remember why answering a door was so important in the first place.

Muted voices carried through the solid wood, and she half listened apathetically. She couldn't make out any words, but the voices were distinctly male, and just as distinctly unfamiliar. The door handle began to turn slowly, and she was suddenly alert, the threat of danger snapping her out of her apathetic haze completely. She kept her posture relaxed, but instantly tensed to run; no way in hell was she getting overtaken by some stupid burglars today.

The door swung inward slowly, revealing two men who looked inside her house cautiously. She saw the glint of a knife protruding from the waistband of the taller one's pants, and her mind screamed in panic. Demons. They had to be demons, because why the hell else would they have a runed knife? The tall one had shaggy brown hair, and strangely empathetic eyes, his shorter partner seemed to resemble him, but his face was harder like he was prepared to do a job no matter what it took to finish it.

"You know," she adopted the arrogant tone that Gabriel had perfected and smirked viciously when both men jumped at the sound of her voice, "most people wait for someone to answer the door before coming in."

The tall one let loose a sheepish grin, and his partner rubbed the back of his head with an air of nonchalance. They closed the door silently, effectively trapping her in the room with them. Not that she minded, she knew if push came to shove she could easily escape...maybe. They crossed the trap easily and she relaxed just a fraction, not demons then.

"Are you Rita?" The shorter one spoke first, and she felt an irrational stab of annoyance at hearing that name cross a stranger's lips so casually.

"Marguerite," Because hey, she still had her pride, and that name was only for Gabriel.

The taller stranger seemed to understand her dilemma, a knowing look crossed his face, "I'm Sam and this caveman," he motioned to the man beside him who let out a lazy wave, "is my brother Dean. Gabriel sent us to get you."

"Oh did he now," she didn't even bother to hide the disbelief that ran rampant in her voice. They wanted her to believe them and they were going to have to give her more than 'Gabriel said so'.

"Gabriel archangel of judgment, messenger of God, and all around annoying pain in everyone's ass. That ringing any bells?" The shorter...Dean gave her a pointed look, as if he was begging her to argue with him. His look said it would just make his day.

Well damn, not like Gabriel would have told just anyone…"Alright," she was suitably convinced, "Gabriel sent you…" she let the unspoken for hang in the air around them.

The brothers looked at each other uncomfortably, having some type of wordless conversation with their eyes. The look set her on edge, because that wasn't a look off good news, that was the look of world ending news, and she didn't want any of it attached to Gabriel.

Sam pulled a tightly wrapped bundle out of the small duffle bag he carried at his side. He crossed the room slowly with a look akin to someone heading to the gallows. She held her breath as he knelt in front of her and held the tiny bundle out to her respectfully, "Gabriel wanted you to have this," he placed it in her lap softly and leaned back on his heels watching her reaction carefully.

Her head swam and her fingers shook as a small part of her realized what he was telling her. She fingered the bundle in her lap, letting the coarse material drag across her skin, "…wanted?" She knew what that meant, if she looked deep inside herself she'd known since last night, but she absolutely refused to believe it.

"Marguerite…" Sam looked at Dean for support, either unwilling or unable to give her the news himself.

"He's dead," Dean put it into the air bluntly, "Lucifer killed him."

Sam shot Dean a reproachful look, then turned to face her, hazel eyes alight with worry, "I know this is hard," Marguerite laughed hollowly stopping Sam short.

"You have no idea what I'm feeling," tears streamed down her face, hot and painful. They ripped her apart from the inside and God did it hurt. Nothing had ever hurt as bad as this. She clutched the fabric to her chest, letting the coarse material scratch her skin. Underneath the overwhelming, sickly sweet, metallic odor of blood was something much more familiar. The scent of candy, rain, lightning and some musky smell that only ever belonged to one person clung stubbornly to the fabric; resolutely refusing to be swallowed up by death and decay.

The scent was so familiar that she could _almost_ believe he was there. That same scent had clung to her skin and hair after long nights of passion, permeated her kitchen when Gabriel had wanted to make pancakes, curled around her when she just needed to cuddle. The scent had been there almost her entire life, and now all that was left was a stained green jacket.

Something hard was underneath the fabric, poking her skin insistently, begging to be revealed. She unwound the fabric carefully, loath to let the scent dissipate into the air around her. There, surrounded by green fabric, was Gabriel's blade. The dull metal was tarnished with blood, crusting and flaking from the immaculate blade onto the dingy fabric surrounding it. An object that had once hummed with power now lay silent in her lap, reminding her that it's wielder was now gone.

"Oh God…" sobs ran through her against her will, shaking her body, pouring out of her until her throat ached. She was powerless to stop it, just let the grief run through her. She was never going to see him again, never hear him joke around, never feel him curled up around her. He was gone, and all that was left was a dirty jacket and tarnished blade.

Strong arms curled around her and she burrowed into them senselessly, she hardly cared that until a few minutes ago she hadn't even known this man's name. He'd _known_ Gabriel, knew what he was, had talked with him. That made all the difference.

"He wanted you to have it," Sam's voice was soft in her ear, and somehow she got the feeling that he understood what this felt like, "The last thing he did was make sure you were safe. He told us about you, made it clear how important you were to him."

She shook even after the sobs died down, completely unable to keep the shudders from racking her body against Sam's chest. She hurt so badly, an ache that wouldn't fade _couldn't_ fade.

"What uh…," Dean gave her a bit of an uncomfortable look, obviously unused to the female waterworks, "What exactly where you two?"

She took a few shaky breaths, trying to gain enough composure to speak, "B-bonded. We were bonded."

"Bonded?"

"Like," Dean looked at her for confirmation, "Angel hitched?"

Marguerite looked at him wiping tears from her face shakily, "That's an apt description yes. He," she thought about it for a moment, let the question distract her from the pain, "bound my soul to his grace I guess you could say. So angel hitched definitely works, but there's no out to it unless…" she trailed off quietly; unless Gabriel died, and that's exactly what happened.

"How did you know about him? He just…told you?"

Marguerite gave Sam a blank look, completely unwilling and unable to process emotions, "I could see his true form."

Confused silence followed her proclamation and the brothers looked at each other, seeming to hold a conversation with their eyes that went something along the lines of "What the hell?"

Sam shook his head adamantly. "That's impossible, we knew a psychic who looked at a lesser angel's true from and her eyes melted…literally."

"I just," she had stopped shaking now focused on the questions, "_can._ Ever since I was little, I could see things true forms. Angels, demons, it was all the same. I could see the vessel they inhabited," she looked at the boys and shrugged, "but if I focused hard enough I could see their true form behind that."

"That," Dean gave her an admiring look, "is one bad ass skill."

She tried to smile at the childish tone, but couldn't quite bring herself to do so. She wasn't freaking out anymore, but she still hurt, could feel Gabriel's death as keenly as a knife in her ribs. She had a feeling that aching sadness would never really go away; knew, somehow, that she'd always feel lost without him. She looked at the boys resolutely, there was no way in hell she was going to turn into a weeping damsel over this, if there's one thing she had learned in life it was to shove the sadness behind and push forward, there would be time enough for tears and anger. Someone had murdered _her_ Gabriel, and now she wanted to even the score.

"He sent you for a reason," she glanced at the brothers, clutching the jacket tightly; part of her wondered if she'd ever put it down, "I doubt he would have sent you just to play babysitter."

"What do you know about Revelation?"

Fucking cryptic ass men, and their cryptic ass questions; she really hated it when people answered questions with questions, "What part of Revelation? The bowls of wrath, the seven seals, the prostitute? There are _a lot_ of chapters in Revelation boys and I don't have time to recite every single one of them for you."

"What do you know about the witness?" Sam watched for any type of reaction, "there's mention of a witness in revelation."

She thought back to all the bible lessons her father had given her as a child, he'd always pull her in his lap and read to her from the family bible he'd brought with him from Austria. He'd mentioned Revelation in passing, and her fascination with angels had fueled her research of it later on in life. Most of her memory, however, was fuzzy.

What she did remember came automatically, carved into her head from hours of research and long nights spent with her father, "Und ich will meinen zwei Zeugen geben. Und wenn jemand ihnen schaden zufügen will geht feuer aus ihrem mund hervor und verzehrt ihre feinde; und wenn jemand ihnen schaden zufügen will muss er so getötet werden."

Empty scilence answered her, and it took her a moment to realize she had spoken in German, she was so upset, her first language had flowed off her tongue so easliy, and her mind was so scattered that it felt natural to fall back to it.

"Gabriel said you were a Chinese teacher," Sam gave her an amused grin, "he never mentioned anything about German."  
The questions kept her focused, kept her mind off the gaping hole in her being, "My father is Austrian. I grew up speaking English and German. I took Chinese in high school and continued on with it in college," she'd spoken it with Gabriel often, she could still remember how ecstatic she had been to find out he knew every language that existed, "most of my bible knowledge comes from my dad, and he read out of the family bible to me. It was all in German so it's…"

Dean looked at her, "Automatic?" He supplied the word helpfully, smiling slightly when she nodded, "So you speak three languages huh?"

"Four," the boys gaped at her like fish, "German, English, Chinese, and Latin." She snorted at the amazed looks flowing her way, "Please, languages aren't that hard."

"Speak for yourself," Sam pointed to Dean, "he can barely speak English."

Dean shook his head, "Bitch."

"Jerk."

Marguerite felt a pained smile grow on her face, it felt stiff and broken, but it was a smile none the less. She could remember that type of banter; remembered playing around with people she had considered siblings. The idea that anyone could kill their own sibling…ice ran through her veins and tears stung her eyes, she hoped like hell the Devil regretted it. She hoped that even if he won and was able to destroy the earth that the victory would taste of ashes, she hoped that every time Lucifer thought of his victory it was tainted with the vision of his little brother dying by his hand.

A vicious look must have crossed her face, because the brothers both quieted and watched her warily, she smiled weakly, "Sorry, just…thinking."

"It's a bad habit," Dean sat down and stared at her, "So mind repeating those verses in English this time? We need all the information we can get, because to be honest Gabriel left us dick."

Her eyes welled up painfully, "That sounds like him alright," she took a few deep breaths, "'and I will give power to my two witnesses. And if anyone wants to harm them, fire proceeds from their mouth and devours their enemies. And if anyone wants to harm them he must be killed in this manner.'" She looked at them, "Basically Revelation says that the witnesses will proclaim the glory of God, for a few thousand days. During that time no one can harm the witnesses."

"So what, they've got a God barrier?"  
She looked at Dean and shrugged, "I don't know. It's not all that clear, just no one can kill them during that time."

"Do you know the angel's version?" Sam stretched out a bit, long limbs barely fitting on the couch, "Gabriel told us a different version. He said it was the correct one, and basically," he gave her a pointed look, "_you_ are the witness. You'll see the final battle between Michael and Lucifer."

Marguerite looked at them like they'd grown another set of heads, because really, her, the witness? The concept is laughable to her and she put forth her best bitch face to show it. There's only so much weirdness in her life she can take, seeing true forms, and bonding with an archangel of the friggin lord filled the quota enough for five lifetimes, "Look…there's gotta be some…"

"There's not," Dean's voice is rough, and for some reason she feels compelled to listen, "Gabriel was pretty damn clear, if we want to send Lucifer back to hell and end the damn apocalypse we have to have you," his green eyes took on a hard glint, commanding like a general, "otherwise we're all fucked," Sam winced at his brother, eyes full of reproach, he obviously wanted Dean to show more tact, "so I'm sorry, but it's time to put your big girl panties on and get used to the idea."

"Who are you two really?" A normal person couldn't pull of that type of tone, hell most soldiers couldn't pull of that tone, it sent chills through her because the only other person who'd used that tone on her had been Gabriel, a small part of her was thankful that she was too busy glaring at Dean to feel a stab of pain, "No one walks in and talks the end of the world like this, Gabriel wouldn't have sent you if you were just two saps on the street, and if you were normal hunters you wouldn't care half as much as you do."

Thick silence enveloped the room, and sparks flew from the glares Dean and Marguerite were sending each other, but she'd had enough practice with stand-offs her entire life, she'd won fights with an _archangel_, Dean didn't stand a chance.

"We're vessels," Sam's face was pale and he looked nauseous, "Dean is Michael's vessel and I'm," he looked away, his voice hoarse, catching on syllables, "I'm Lucifer's vessel. If we don't stop this, Dean and I," he took a deep breath, "we're going to have to kill each other," he looked at her tears shining in his hazel eyes, "So we really need your help, at least…at least to help Dean. I'm already too lost to be saved but Dean," his eyes turned pleading, "Dean could be okay."

"No one's too lost," Marguerite's voice was full of empathy, because she hated pity, pity was so empty and useless, "Being the Morningstar's vessel," she gave Sam he best school mistress look, "It doesn't say anything about you, there's going to be similarities sure," Sam was looking at her like he was just seeing her for the first time, and her stomach twisted because she'd seen that look so long ago, "but it's about bloodlines, not souls or people. If you were just like the Morningstar," she gestured to Dean with her head, "you would have killed him already, you would have said yes the second you knew. Trust me Sam," she laughed darkly, "I've seen evil. I've looked on the true forms of demons and every other nasty thing you can imagine, and you're just human, flawed and fallen, but gloriously human."

She looked at him quietly, letting the message sink in before turning her attention on Dean, "So what is it I'm suppose to do as the witness? Just watch Michael and Lucifer fight? That sounds pretty damn boring."

"No. You," he cleared his throat, still stunned and grateful for her outburst to Sammy, "you can send Lucifer back to hell, with the horsemen's rings. Gabriel said you're the only one who can open the cage," he held up his hand when she opened her mouth, "I have _no_ idea how. He implied that'd you'd just," Dean shrugged, "mojo it open when the time was right."

"Mojo…right…" she closed her eyes and tried to breathe, she was really close to being overwhealmed, and she may have been a stubborn Austrian, but there was only so much crap she could take in one day. She didn't want to stop talking, the quiet was too empty, Gabriel was always loud, constantly moving or talking; hell if he'd been human she would place money on him being a snorer. The absence of all that life was jarring, the silence was so dead, so wrong in her ears that it made her ache. She was desperately trying to find something to say; _anything_ to fill the God awful silence.

"How did you meet him?" Sam's voice was quiet, and he hadn't looked up at her yet, "How'd you get tangled up in all of this?"

Ask and ye shall receive. She didn't even want to think about Gabriel, didn't want to acknowledge that hole in her chest that burned like acid. Gabriel seemed like such a taboo topic, she'd honestly rather drink tea with Lucifer than talk about Gabriel right now.

"I went to Stanford," Sam seemed to understand her need for words, understand her reluctance to speak, "I was going to be a lawyer."

Dean's face was twisted in pain, like he didn't want to think about the years when Sam was gone. The few years where Sam was his own man, where he had been measured by how well he could score on a test, not how many monsters he could kill in a day. The separation had been hard on both the brothers, but Sam still looked back on most of the time fondly.

"I met this girl while I was there," Marguerite's eyes were burning into him, somehow too focused, "her name was Jessica and man," Sam laughed softly, "was she _hot_. She was in my English class, and it took me _weeks _to talk to her. She was so perfect, and smart and way, way out of my league." They had been wonderful years, even if the thought still brought an ache to the center of his chest it was bearable now, like a nostalgic twinge instead of a ripping pain, "I asked her out and she said yes, turns out she'd been trying to talk to me too. We hit it off right away, liked the same things, and had the same values. I was normal around her, you know? Like…" he struggled for words.

"Like you were finally you, and not everyone else's version of you?" Marguerite knew exactly what he meant, knew what he had felt, knew it just as surely as she knew the sun would rise and the earth would spin.

"Exactly," he avoided meeting Dean's gaze, sure his brother was going to hate him for having been so happy on his own, "We dated for a really long time, I moved in with her my junior year and it was…perfect. She had no idea what I had been, and there were only things we could _be_." His voice caught, it had been so perfect, so serene, and he always felt himself wanting to go back, wanting to have those feelings back, "I was gonna ask her to marry me my senior year." Then everything went wrong, everything fell apart in his fingers, "I went out with Dean to find our dad and," his voice shook, "I got back and I thought she was in the shower, so I laid down to wait for her, and something dripped on me," he could remember the metallic odor, the cool drop of liquid on his face, feel the confusion and slight panic when he took in the red stain on his fingertips, "I looked up and she was on the ceiling, she'd been…killed by a demon."

Everything had been wrong for months after, the only thing he could take comfort in was having Dean at his side, his brother had been there through it all, through all the dumb choices and idiotic decisions. Marguerite didn't have that, and that bothered him, because he had been her, but he'd always had Dean with him, and he wanted her to have something, even if it was just the knowledge that he knew, knew that she needed distractions, knew that she couldn't bear to think about it. He knew that it would all break out later, she could only hold it in for so long; only keep the grief at bay temporarily.

She didn't say anything, didn't open her eyes, the room fell into a pensive silence, and she rolled his words around in her mind softly.

The brother's were about to get up to give her space, "It's a long story."

They stopped, Dean turned toward her, "What is?"

"I met Gabriel when I was five," she cracked open one brown eye to stare at them, "sure you still want to hear it?"

"Yes," Sam sat down instantly, looking almost eager. He'd never met someone with firsthand knowledge of what he felt like, and as terrible as it was to make her go through this he was curious, he wanted to know why. Why Gabriel had chosen her, why she'd let him.

Dean didn't look so sure, "Look it might not be a good time…"

"It's now or never cowboy," she shrugged, "I'm only going to tell it once, but it's gonna be a long story."

Dean frowned before sitting gingerly, it couldn't hurt, and if he was completely honest he wanted to know how the short little bastard had snagged himself a woman like this, because that took some serious finesse.

Marguerite sighed lowly, letting her head rest back against the couch. Most stories began with once upon a time, or some ridiculous shit made to set the listener at ease. She wasn't at ease, had never really been at ease. She certainly didn't meet him in fairy tale circumstances; he didn't sweep her off her feet onto a white horse that would gallop into the sunset.

They'd fought constantly, drove each other crazy, he was an arrogant asshole at times, constantly reminding her that she was inferior, and she was a bitch, letting him know exactly what she thought about his feathery ass. He'd disappear for days, and sometimes they wouldn't talk. It was enough to drive a saint mad, but then there were the times when they would laugh together, he'd hold her close to him, and she'd buy him gummy bears even though he could just snap them into existence. He'd been fascinated by her work, loved watching her write in Chinese, they'd talk about nothing for hours and never get bored, they held each other in the highest regard, slept close at night.

So no, their relationship wasn't perfect; they hadn't been any type of fairy tale, sometimes they wondered why they even bothered. But that's what had made it so wonderful and precious, because they actually had to try, had to work to get into a peaceful groove. How was she supposed to put that into words? How could she really explain exactly what he had been to her?

Because the best stories weren't fairy tales, they were stories like the ones she knew the Winchesters had. You had to work, and fight, and _bleed_ for your piece of happiness, and that's what made it so precious, because you worked for it.

So she started her story simply, cutting out all the Disney crap, and Grimm Brother bullshit.

"I met Gabriel when I was five years old..."


	3. When I was a Child

Mama and Vati (A/N: German for Daddy) were arguing again. The rough sounds of barely muffled shouting drifted up into her dark room. She didn't understand why Mama and Vati fought. Vati said Mama was cheating, but Marguerite didn't understand cheating, because that's what you did when you didn't follow the rules in a game; Mama and Vati never seemed to be playing any games.

The yelling always changed, like a pattern. They'd yell about cheating, them Mama and Vati would argue about her. Mama thought something was wrong with her; Mama thought she was lying about the scary monsters that lived in people. They were terrifying, always surrounded by a swirl of thick, black smoke. Marguerite couldn't even get near them without crying. Vati said she just had an active imagination, she didn't know what that was, but it sounded better than making things up.

Marguerite hated when they argued about her, because that's when Vati stopped trying to lower his voice, shouts echoing through the house dully. Mama would scream just as loudly, saying bad things that Marguerite didn't understand.

She clutched the bear Oma und Opa (A/N: German for Grandma and Grandpa) had brought her the last time they visited from Austria. Opa had said the bear, Gustaf, was magic, and if she squeezed him when she was really upset Gustaf would make her feel better. Marguerite decided she wasn't squeezing hard enough, because she didn't feel any better. Her tummy was still twisting, and she wanted to cry, her tears catching in the corner of wide eyes. Mama and Vati fought all the time, usually when they thought she was asleep, but she never was. When they knew she was awake they argued in German, thinking she didn't know what they were saying, but she did.

She couldn't remember a time when Mama and Vati didn't argue; remembered hearing them yell from the darkest corners of her memory. Vati never yelled at her, he was always quiet, low voice smooth and rich, firm when needed but more often than not filled with laughter and love. He never yelled at Marguerite, even when she was in trouble.

Mama yelled though, she yelled when Marguerite wouldn't go near the scary monsters. Mama yelled when Marguerite accidently broke a cup, or when she didn't help pick up. Mama's voice was always loud. When she yelled at Marguerite, Vati would yell at Mama for yelling. Then they'd start arguing all over again.

She climbed out of her bed cautiously, little feet kicking in the air until they found the cold floor. Her blue princess nightgown got caught in the sheets and she tugged it free with a small huff before pulling Gustaf out of the bed. Gustaf's fur was soft in her tiny hands, and she picked him up with both arms, before padding out her bedroom door quietly.

The hallway was dark and empty, but there was light shining up the stairway. She walked toward it slowly, tiny hand trailing along the wall for guidance. The closer she got to the light, the louder the shouting got.

Mama and Vati were shouting louder now, words mixing together in an angry rush, Marguerite watched them silently from the top of the stairs, wondering if they were going to stop tonight, or if Vati was going to sleep in the living room again. She didn't like it when Vati slept in the living room, because it was always cold, and he seemed unhappy when he woke up. But Vati would always pick her up and swing her around before holding her tight. She liked it when Vati picked her up.

She dragged Gustaf behind her carefully as she made the long trek down the stairs, little hand clinging to the rail as she put one foot then another down cautiously. Mama and Vati didn't see her; they were in the kitchen, having moved from the living room so they wouldn't wake her up, but she thought that was silly, because she was already awake.

She didn't like being inside when Mama and Vati yelled, didn't like how her tummy would hurt, and her ears would ring. Marguerite especially didn't like it when she would cry because of it, because she was a big girl, and Mama said big girls didn't cry over silly things. She pushed wispy curls out of her eyes and gave the door a thoughtful look. Opa said it was always better out under the stars, and Marguerite wanted it to be better, and if she went outside she could go to the park and play until Mama and Vati were done yelling. That way they wouldn't feel bad about waking her up, because she'd be having fun at the park.

She moved to the front door silently, dragging Gustaf behind her the entire time, before reaching up on the very tips of her toes to open the giant front door. It swung open silently, letting in the cool night breeze that flowed around her house. She could hear crickets and bugs humming out in the dark, feel the crisp breeze that shook the leaves. She left the door open so that Mama and Vati would know she was at the park, and walked out into the night happily, little feet sinking into the damp grass before making her way down the gravelly path to the woods. Vati always took her down that path, so the park had to be somewhere down there. She left the door open so that Mama and Vati would know she was at the park.

She walked through trees, and climbed over fallen logs, nightgown snagging on twigs and trailing through mud. The endless woods around her were silent, they blocked out the light from the stars, and only the faintest hint of moonlight illuminated the trail in front of her. Marguerite clutched Gustaf tighter and waddled down the path, awkwardly looking over his fluffy ears; she tried to remember which pathways Vati always took, but in the end decided to follow the pretty ones, because the pretty ones had to be good.

Darkness surrounded her, and the wind blew ominously, shaking leaves from scraggily trees until they rained down in a light shower that crinkled under her bare feet. When she looked around she could see glowing eyes from tiny animals hiding in the trees and bushes around her. Her little heart thumped wildly, and she kept telling herself that she was a big girl, and big girls weren't afraid of the dark. Marguerite clutched Gustaf tighter anyway, just in case she became _a little_ afraid.

She could hear the distant rumbles of thunder, and the air became perfumed with the scent of rain. She shivered in the cool breeze, and wished she had brought her blankie with her, because it was really cold, her skin tingled with it uncomfortably. She made it to a huge clearing, illuminated by the small amount of moon that found its way out of dense clouds, when the sky broke apart and let down a torrent of freezing rain.

Marguerite shrieked in delight and began jumping around in puddles, slashing mud and water all over her nightgown, playground completely forgotten in the mists of her new found toys scattered across the ground. The wind whipped her sopping hair around her face, and her nightgown clung to her little body. She placed Gustaf under a tree so he could guard her and sat down in the middle of a puddle contently. She had begun to make little mud cakes, when a bright light filled the clearing.

It was too bright, and her eyes watered in irritation, before she turned to the offending source and was faced by the biggest thing she had ever seen in her life. The creature was huge, towering above the trees, its body surrounded by a pulsing white light. Its skin was a peachy, golden colour, and it stretched over a lanky, boney frame complete with six arms. Which was silly, because why would anyone need _six_ arms? She was happy with her two. Its head was white, and reminded her of the Halloween skulls that everyone put on their porches, but its head didn't look like a skull, it had bunches of horn things coming from the top, and something like a halo angels wore circling them.

The prettiest thing about it though, was its wings. They were huge, taking up almost the entire clearing, all six of them stretched out and full of glorious feathers, gold mixing harmoniously with brown and white in a collage. They seemed to sparkle with electricity, and the air around them tingled like a live wire. They fluttered slightly in the bellowing wind, rain dripping off them smoothly before crashing to the ground.

The creature watched her for a few moments before walking toward her slowly, arms spread out in a peaceful gesture. The pearly white cloth draped around its hips dragged across the muddy ground but stayed pristine, almost glowing. Marguerite didn't care what this thing was, didn't care that some part of her thought she should be afraid, this thing absolutely _had_ to be an angel. Because in her opinion only God could make something as amazing as this, this creature was better than an _entire_ trip to Disney land, and she would know, she'd been there twice.

It stood in front of her imperiously, and curious brown eyes looked up at it wondrously, its entire foot was bigger than her bed, and she had a big kid bed too. It leaned down slowly, until its face was right above her, glowing icy blue eyes staring at her curiously, it opened its mouth and the most glorious sounds spewed forth in a language she's never heard before. The words made her feel warm, like Vati's hugs and Mama's cookies. She laughed excitedly and clapped her hands, listening contently as it continued to speak in a voice like thunder. The light emanating from it surrounded her and she felt tingly and warm, the rain didn't spatter against her anymore, and the mud that had been caked to her little body disappeared.

She reached out carefully, and touched the bone white face in front of her, letting out a startled yelp when the creature pulled back, suddenly on the other side of the clearing looking at her in concern. Marguerite frowned a bit; maybe she wasn't supposed to touch him.

"Es tut mir leid," her English had fled like it did when she got upset, and she usually clung to Mama's legs, but Gustaf would do for now. She didn't want to upset the creature, wanted the warmth and light to come back, but she'd messed up. Mama said she had to ask before she did things, and she always forgot to. She curled up a tiny bit shivering in the rain that was once again falling on her in soaking torrents, it seemed to pick up with the creatures agitation.

She looked up, and suddenly it was back in front of her, face right in front of hers again, babbling in its secret language. Marguerite smiled widely when it held out its finger and she touched it excitedly, exploring the soft golden skin beneath her hand. It looked like a speck against the creature's finger and she moved so that both her hands were exploring the soft leathery skin. She felt it chuckle, a rumbling sound that echoed around the clearing, clear as the thunder in the sky above them. The pulsing white light and warmth wound itself around her again, sliding through her auburn curls, and trailing tingling paths across her face and body.

Feathers brushed her face softly and small hands reached out to them wondrously, delighting in the tremors that rocked through the creature, which used one giant finger to gently untangle her hands from the sensitive appendages. Marguerite giggled happily when it picked her up gently, letting her rest in the palm of one glowing hand before standing to its full height, she looked at the ground with wide brown eyes and clung to the giant finger that curled above her head to shelter her from the rain. It continued speaking its language, letting the syllables caress her softly before setting her back on the cold ground.

There was a blinding flash of light, Marguerite cried out in pain and covered her eyes with dirty little hands waiting for the glow behind her fingers to fade before peeking out curiously. The creature was gone, and in its place a grownup stood a few feet in front of her. He was shorter than Vati, with honey brown hair slicked back out of mischievous amber eyes.

He walked toward her slowly, footsteps crunching in the wet grass before kneeling down until he was eye level with her, "Hey there kiddo."

Marguerite stared at him for a few moments, "Mama said I'm not suppose to talk to strange grownups." She gave him a stubborn look that plainly said she wasn't going to speak.

He laughed softly and ruffled her hair, "I'm Gabriel," he produced a lollipop out of nowhere, holding it out to her, "You know my name now. So we aren't strangers anymore."

Marguerite nodded, completely happy with that explanation before taking the blue lollipop gingerly. She popped it into her mouth and hummed happily when the flavor hit her tongue, "I'm Marguerite."

"Good name," he stood up again, towering over her, "why you out by yourself little Rita?"

"Marguerite," she bit out her name from around her lollipop and picked up Gustaf, "I wanted to go to the park."

"By yourself?" A small frown crossed the man's face, and Marguerite got the impression that he didn't frown often, "Isn't that a bit dangerous kiddo?"

"Nein," she gave him a stubborn look, "I'm a big girl," she held out her bear, "This is Gustaf. Oma und Opa gave him to me, and Opa said that he'll protect me."

"Of course he will Rita," he shook the bears paw softly and Marguerite giggled at the serious expression on his face as he spoke to Gustaf, "You better take real good care of this girl here Gustaf," he winked, "she's special."

He snapped his fingers lightly, and a fluffy blanket appeared out of thin air, much to Marguerite's delight. The man wrapped it around her snuggly before sitting on the wet earth, and pulling her into his lap gently, warm arms wrapped around her snugly and she cuddled back into his chest contently.

"You know Gustaf is a magic bear right?"

"Magic?" Marguerite looked at her messy brown teddy curiously, she'd never seen him do anything remotely magical, "you mean like what Opa said?"

His honeyed voice was full of amusement, "What did your Opa say little Rita?"

"Opa said," she concentrated tried to call up the sound of her Opa's voice, gruff from years of smoking on his ancient pipe, "Opa said that Gustaf was magical, and if I squeeze him I'll feel better when I'm sad."

"See kiddo? He's magical."

"But he didn't make me feel better tonight when Mama and Vati were yelling again."

Silence met her words, heavy and thick; it was cut by a low, weary sigh, "Oh kiddo..." Gabriel's arms pulsed her closer squeezing her gently, "adults do silly things kiddo." He paused for a long moment, seeming to gather his words, "My dad and my brother fought all the time."

"Really?" Marguerite tilted her head back to take in Gabriel's face, it was contorted with sadness and he was staring up at the sky with a clenched jaw.

"Really really."

Marguerite wiggled out of his arms and walked over to Gustaf, she picked him up gingerly and held him out to Gabriel, "Here," she placed Gustaf in Gabriel's lap, "you gotta...You gotta squeeze him. Then you'll feel better."

Gabriel's eyes filled with something Marguerite didn't understand, but he picked up the bear and squeezed him softly, amber eyes stuck to her brown ones the entire time, "Thanks kiddo. I feel better already." He looked down at her eyes alight with curiosity, "Why were your parents arguing kiddo?"

"Vati said Mama's cheating. I don't know what it is, but Vati was upset about it."

Gabriel nodded slowly, an odd expression crossing his face, before he brushed the subject off and set the bear down reverently, he snapped his fingers watching the joyful expression on Marguerite's face when the bear got up and began to dance, stuffed limbs held by magic strings, "Told you he was magic kiddo."

Her laughter echoed around the clearing, ringing soundly in his ears. Thousands of years of tricks and magic, and no one had ever laughed like this. She chased the bear happily, little feet splashing in puddles and squelching in muddy patches of grass. Fights and sorrow lost in the simplicity of childhood delights. Gabriel smiled slowly; wouldn't it be nice if all humans were like this?

She finally caught the dancing teddy and walked back to Gabriel a look of childish delight on her face, before plopping down in his lap soundly. She hummed softly, moving the bear's limbs on her own, making her own magic.

He ran his fingers through her unruly curls, smiling as he began to weave tales in the air for her to hear. Marguerite listened as he told her endless stories, voice mixing with the wind and rain around him. Something about him was magical, because the rain shied from them and the howling wind twirled around them. Marguerite listened to him happily, snuggling closer and yawning softly as the sun slowly made its way above the tree line. The light shone on them softly, chasing away the last traces of rain and night from the clearing.

Gabriel finished his stories and wrapped her in the blanket once again hoisting her up easily, letting her head rest on his shoulder sleepily. Marguerite clung to his jacket snuggling into the course, green fabric, trying desperately to keep brown eyes open so she could keep watching him.

The next thing she knew her Vati was yelling and she was lifted and pressed close to a familiar chest. She opened her eyes and her Vati was holding her tightly, tears coursing from familiar brown eyes, admonishments and prayers tumbling from his lips in a frantic mix of German and English.

"I found her out behind my house," she heard Gabriel's voice from behind her; "poor kid was soaking wet and frightened. I picked up on my police scanner that they were looking for her, and they announced the address."

"Thank you," Mama's voice was full of tears, "thank you for finding my daughter."

"No problem," Gabriel winked at Marguerite subtly and she giggled in return,"Sorry it wasn't sooner, I had her in my house for a bit trying to get an address out of her."

Marguerite frowned at him; she hadn't been in a house at all. They'd been in the clearing the entire night. She wanted to know why he was lying to Mama and Vati, and opened her mouth to question him but he was already walking away.

She rested her head on Vati's strong shoulder looking up to watch Gabriel leave as her parents walked her into the house. As Gabriel walked down the path Marguerite could have sworn she saw three sets of wings coming from his back.

Somehow, she knew she'd see him again.


	4. Loli-pop

Marguerite refused to go home. She walked away from her school, splashing through puddles and treading across muddy pavement sullenly. She resolutely ignored the shrieked shouts of her step-sister echoing behind her; they'd fade soon enough. The flimsy uniform from the pretentious private school Jessica, her mom, forced her to go to barely provided cover from the wailing wind and drizzle that covered the city.

She _hated_ New York; hated the pressing crowds, constant blaring noise, and rude people. She hated the towering buildings that pressed in on her, blocking the view of forests and land and _life_. New York was a bustling crowded port of death; nothing could sustain itself there for long without succumbing to the madness.

On top of that, she couldn't stand her step family. She couldn't deal with how Jessica simpered and fawned over her new big time lawyer husband, how she acted like the perfect trophy wife. She couldn't deal with her perfect step-sister and her straight brown hair and blue eyes and straight A's. She couldn't bear to go home and plaster on her wicket-stepdaughter act. She just wanted it all to go _away._ Jessica wouldn't let her move back in with Vati, because her new husband was so rich and wonderful for sending Marguerite to the wonderful catholic school.

A big part of Marguerite knew she wasn't fair to her step father; he really wasn't a bad guy. He tried his best to be fair between her and his own daughter, tried to keep Jessica from losing her temper and hitting Marguerite when her temper became too much. She just couldn't bring herself to like the man. Because without him, her Vati wouldn't be working two endless jobs to pay child support to a woman whose husband was rich enough to own his own house in New York City.

She wove through thick crowds mindlessly, fighting to make it up the street that lead to her favorite ice cream parlor. It was the coolest one in the city, the owner had taken an old world war era building and fixed it up to make it look exactly like an old drug store.

She looked over her shoulder every now and then for any sign that her step family knew where she was. Marguerite wasn't supposed to walk around by herself, but it was only a few blocks, and she had enough money to pay for the ice cream. She figured it would take a while for anyone to actually miss her anyway.

She opened the door, a warm blast of air shot against her, and she stumbled in contently. She looked around and froze, before walking to the counter, doing her best to ignore the monsters sitting in the corner booth. They were cloaked in black smoke, and what was visible through the swirling smoke was terrifying, her heart beat painfully in her chest as she kept wide brown eyes off them. To everyone else in the store they looked like a normal couple out on a date, Marguerite could see their disguise, but she could just as easily see right through it.

She chose the counter seat farthest away from the smoke couple, and pulled herself onto the scuffed silver stool. She ran her fingers over the worn counter, letting her nails and skin catch in the pits and grooves that had made their home in the wood over the endless years. She marveled over the fact that someone had sat in this very spot a hundred years ago, and there would probably be someone in the exact same spot after she was gone.

She pushed damp curls out if her eyes, and extracted a wad of bills from her pocket. She counted them out carefully, the green bills crinkled against her skin in a weak greeting.

A small bowl of strawberry ice cream slid in front of her smoothly. She gave the innocent glass a confused look.

"You looked like you needed a pick-up kiddo."

A jolt of shock flooded through her, freezing her solid. She knew that voice, hadn't heard it in five years, but she _knew_ that voice. She'd all but convinced herself that the night in the field had been a dream. She willed herself to look up, brown eyes met amber, "…Gabriel?"

"Long time no see little Rita."

"Marguerite," she corrected him automatically, too many people tried to shorten her name, become familiar with her, but she had no inclination to grant them the privilege, "What are you doing here?" Not that she wasn't completely thrilled, but she hadn't seen any sign of him for five years.

"Like I said," he leaned toward her, forearms resting on the counter inches from hers, "you looked like you could use a pick-up." He tousled her wild, auburn curls affectionately, laughing when she gave a half-hearted attempt at batting his hand away, "Why are you here by yourself Rita? Pretty dangerous in cities like this."

She gave a nonchalant shrug, not really caring for the question, "I didn't want to go home."

A small frown settled over his face, "Why not? Home is where the heart is after all," he stole a spoonful of her ice cream and stuck his tongue out at her indignant expression, delighting in her small giggle.

"Home is where my Vati is, I can't see him until summer," she ate some of the ice cream, "and I didn't want to put up with Jessica."

"You call your mom by her first name." She could hear a hint of disapproval thread into his voice, and she couldn't help but resent it. What did he know? He was a man she'd met once five years ago, she hadn't seen him since, he couldn't possibly understand.

"I found out what cheating is," she gave him a bitter smile, face alight with knowledge that no ten year old should possess, "and who she was cheating with."

He took in the expression on her face before letting out a pained sigh; no doubt it had been a messy divorce with years' worth of custody battles, "Oh kiddo…" Gabriel gave her a weak smile and brushed curls out of her face, "adults do silly things Rita." He watched her mournfully, upset over the adult eyes staring out at him from a child's face, "I bet you give them hell."

Marguerite nodded and opened her mouth to speak when the shadow couple walked up to the counter. She froze, their presence making her want to bolt, but she forced herself to eat the ice cream Gabriel had given her. It stuck to her throat in a sticky mess, made her gag silently. The couple left and Marguerite gave a sigh of relief, and looked up to see Gabriel studding her intently, "What?" She hadn't done anything wrong, she'd stayed still and continued on like nothing had happened, and he couldn't possibly know what was wrong.

"You can see them?" He bit back a curse at her tiny nod, taking in her pale face before pressing on anyway, "Can you see me?"

Marguerite nodded and focused on him quietly, there behind Gabriel stood the creature. It was no less magnificent and breathtaking than the night she had first seen it, but she couldn't see Gabriel. He must be human, and the creature must be following him. The creature had the same intense expression on its bone white face as Gabriel had on his, and she thought it was odd that the creature echoed Gabriel's movements… then it clicked into place, Gabriel _was_ the creature. She stared at him in awe, "That's you," she pointed to the creature, ignoring the headache that was forming between her eyes. Her mind couldn't get over the fact that something that big was fitting into such a tiny little store without breaking it.

Gabriel reached over and grasped her hand gently, causing her concentration to break and the creature to fade from sight, "That's me kiddo," he looked into wide brown eyes and sighed, "pretty terrifying I know,"

"Du bist perfekt," (A/N: You're perfect) She couldn't begin to imagine why he thought he was scary. The shadow monsters terrified her, but Gabriel soothed her. Even though he was alien to her, he seemed completely natural.

He looked at her wondrously, as if he were seeing her for the first time, then strode out from behind the counter and held out his hand, "Let's go," he smiled widely, "I'll take you home after."

She didn't even pause to think, just nodded and took his hand letting him pull her down from the stool she was perched on. She followed him out into the dreary, dark, drizzly street. Pressed close to him, let him put a strong arm around her and pull her close to his side, soaking her in warmth. The intoxicating smell of candy, and something she could only describe as lighting surrounded her.

They walked down the street past her school, and she smiled impishly and waved at one of the old nuns who taught her English class. She laughed at the outraged, dumbfounded look on the old woman's face at seeing a much older, strange man walking with his arm around her. Marguerite knew the second they left eye shot the nun would race inside to call Jessica, Marguerite was going to be in _so_ much trouble, but she couldn't bring herself to care. She hadn't felt this happy and child like outside of her summers with Vati for years, she was going to bask in the feeling.

"Trouble shouldn't make you this happy Rita," he laughed at her annoyed expression at the nick name, "get used to it kiddo, the nickname has stuck."

Marguerite nodded grudgingly, "Fine by me feathers."

Gabriel gave her a blank look, "…Feathers…" he pulled her into an empty alley and shook his head, "remind me to teach you how to insult people kid."

He turned her to face him, and placed two warm fingers in the center of her forehead. Suddenly they were gone. The air compressed around her, she couldn't breathe, her chest burned like fire. She could see sounds and hear colours.

Then it all stopped, Marguerite fell to her knees in the middle of a grassy field, gasping for air. Her head was pounding and her stomach churned painfully, whatever he had done…she didn't like it. She felt Gabriel's warm palm rest between her shoulders lightly, and the pain fled.

Her vision cleared and she looked around curiously. Trees circled a grassy field full of narcissus flowers, the trees swayed in the cooling autumn air that surrounded her in a familiar caress. _This_ was home. She knew without a doubt that Vati's house was just down the gravelly path in front of her, knew the steps and rocks that lead there better than she knew her own skin. She could be at Vati's in five minutes if she ran.

"How would you explain being here kiddo?"

"I," she gave the path a disappointed frown and looked up at Gabriel, "how _did_ we get here?" Because Marguerite was pretty sure they didn't board a bus.

"We flew," he plopped down on the earth next to her and tilted his head up toward the sun. The golden rays played in his honey hair and made his amber eyes glow, "I figured you wouldn't mind talking here."

"Talking?"

"You're special kiddo," he pulled a loli-pop out of the air and delighted in the way she took it without question. He hadn't had that type of trust since he told Mary about Jesus. He couldn't help but crave the small bond that was forming between them, growing there slowly and innocently. Gabriel knew this little girl was special in ways he hadn't quite puzzled out yet, but he was going to be the best friend she ever had, "not just anyone can see me Rita."

She looked at him for a moment then at the ground; her shoulders seemed to curl in on her, "So that really happened?" Brown eyes lifted to his and there was desperation in their depths, "What do you look like? Tell me!" The demand left her lips easily and she waited desperately for him to answer her. She needed confirmation.

"Well for starters," he watched her cautiously, unsure of why her outburst had happened. She'd been okay then suddenly not, "I have six arms and wings because you know," he shot her a playful smile trying to ease the tension, "why not? I'm as big as one of the skyscrapers in New York, and I have a halo. I mean I'm pretty freaky." The desperation faded from her eyes leaving them hollow and emotionless, which worried him much more than the desperation, "Why'd you ask kiddo?"

Marguerite's hand slowly crept toward her pocket; she pulled out a small bottle of pills. Marguerite held it in the air a moment, before letting the bright orange bottle fall to the grass with a small clang, the bottle stood out harshly against the swaying grass, opening a chasm between them.

"I didn't take them today," she looked at the bottle silently, "they make my head feel fuzzy. My step sister says I'm crazy," tears burned her eyes, "and I thought so too." Silence curled around them thickly, and she swallowed around the burning lump in her throat, "Because no one else can see the things I can. Jessica made me go to a doctor," it had been terrifying. They'd put her in a white room and left her there alone, she hadn't been allowed to leave until she promised the doctors that she'd take the funny pills they gave her. Jessica would stand over her in the morning to make sure she took them. Today she'd forgotten, and for the first time in months Marguerite walked around without a haze hanging over her.

Marguerite finally found the courage to look at Gabriel and was stunned. He was surrounded by a thick, pulsing light and his wings were unfurled to their full length, filling up the area around them. They hummed with electricity, golden feathers sharp and flared; more like actual stone than feather. There was an intense look of righteous anger etched across his face, giving him an inhuman presence. She was struck dumb by the sight of him, suddenly realizing that the man beside her wasn't human at all.

She had seen this before, sights of righteous glory, and wrathful anger. They were etched into her mind from an early age, drawn into the worn and tattered pages of Vati's family bible. "You're an angel," he looked at her oddly, causing her to frown, something in the back of her mind screamed that she was missing something _important_. Something that she should know, his name rang in her head softly, Gabriel…Gabriel… "An archangel." the words left her in a breathless rush, and she looked at him in awe, "You're an archangel."

The rage left his face, and he felt a sharp stab of disappointment in his chest. Damn kid was smart, and now that she knew, everything would change. No one treated him the same once they found out that he was an angel. She'd grovel and pray; the easy banter and comforting bond between them would unravel and fray to nothing.

He looked so upset that she knew, was watching her like he expected her to grovel. She looked at him wordlessly for a few moments, mulling over the information in her head. It didn't change anything, really if she thought hard enough it didn't _mean_ anything either. Just that he could kill her with a thought if he wanted to, and he didn't seem to want to, so maybe it was ok if she just treated him like…Gabriel. The man who made Gustaf dance; the man who'd transported her to the field outside of her Vati's home to make her comfortable. He didn't act like an all powerful archangel, so why should she treat him like one? Especially since it seemed like he didn't want her to.

"You're pretty short for an archangel," she smiled at the dumbfounded expression smacked across his face, "I'm Lutheran, we don't pray to angels, and we don't really focus on them," she shrugged lightly, "so you're cool, but not that cool."

She let out a small squeak when Gabriel, moving faster than she could see, picked her up in strong arms and held her tight. His wings closed around them, plunging them into darkness and blocking them out from the rest of the world. She felt him bury his face in her hair gently, and his breath brush across her scalp harshly like he was holding in tears. She wrapped her little arms around him happily and snuggled into his warmth.

"Thank you Marguerite."

She smiled warmly and enjoyed the feeling of being held. She knew without a doubt, archangel or not, nothing could harm her when Gabriel held her. He held her for a long time, and then set her down carefully.

They sat together quietly for a few moments before Gabriel picked up the pills and made them disappear, "You don't need those Rita."

"What am I going to tell Jessica?" There was no way Jessica was going to let her go without the pills. She'd have her put back in the hospital with the white rooms if she didn't take them. The fear was etched plainly on her face and she looked at Gabriel pleadingly, "I can't just tell her they're gone."

"Don't worry about it; I'll take care of it."

She trusted that he would too. She knew that somehow he'd keep Jessica from noticing the pills were mysteriously missing.

"We do however," he pulled a bag of gummy bears out of his green jacket and began to munch on them, "need to talk about me."

She stole some gummy bears and munched happily, "You? What about you?"

"More what we shouldn't say about me," he subtly tilted the bag her way, knowing that the bag would never run out of Gummies, "You can't tell people I'm an archangel. If they ask, I'm Loki."

"Loki," he mind flashed to comic books and Norse gods, "you mean like the Norse god of mischief and lies?"

"The one and only," he smiled shallowly, "that's who I am kiddo, and if for any reason someone…odd should ask you that's your answer, it'll keep you safe until I can get to you."

"Why would anyone ask?"

He frowned thoughtfully, "They shouldn't, but I know some people who would be pretty pissed if they found out."

"How are you a god and an angel," she gave him a confused look, because it didn't make sense that he could work for God _and_ be a god.

"I'm technically not a god kiddo," he wasn't really, just masquerading as one, "it's my own little form of witness protection."

"So you have kids?" she remembered her teacher talking about them once, through a long rant about pagans and the evils of joining them and blah blah. Just one of the many joys of going to catholic school, she wanted to learn without the religious context, Marguerite was happy to believe in God, but that didn't mean she couldn't enjoy myths without being told constantly they were sinful and wrong.

"I have three actually," he was rather glad that she was sticking to easy topics. The kid didn't miss much and he knew it was only a matter of time before they moved on to harder subjects, "My two sons Fenrir and Jörmungandr, and then my daughter Hel."

She played with her curls absently, thinking through her next question carefully, "Why do you need protection?" What could possibly hurt an archangel so badly that he needed to hide who he was? Marguerite couldn't think of anything scary enough to hurt an archangel, except maybe God, but she was pretty sure that if God wanted Gabriel dead he'd be dead.

"That," he gave her a forced smile, on to the big kid topics, "is a good question. I need protection from the other angels, they wouldn't exactly be pleased to see me kiddo." Wasn't that the understatement of the millennia? They'd do their best to rip him apart. It wouldn't work, nothing short of Michael or Lucifer had enough power and skill to actually kill him, but if he fought his brothers and sisters they would fall by his hand, no matter how much he wanted his freedom, he couldn't bear the idea of killing any of them.

"But you're an angel too," why would angels want to kill each other? It didn't make sense, she knew they were warriors, they fought together. How could you kill someone you fought with?

Gabriel sighed and played with her unruly curls, "I left heaven after the war, really after my brother fell. It was a pretty bad time for angels, and I just…wanted it to end kiddo. I couldn't bear to be around all the violence and death, especially since we should have been watching after the younger angels, not making them choose sides. They're all my family and we were killing each other."

He'd silently chosen a side though; he'd just never acted on it. In his mind Lucifer had to be right, because their father had abandoned them in favor of these lesser creatures. He'd firmly believed that humans had no purpose, but he'd slowly been proven wrong. They were so fallen and flawed, but most of them worked so hard to be better, cared so much about each other. They felt emotions so deeply for creatures with such short lives, in his many years on earth he'd come to understand why they were his Father's favorite creation. The idea that he once would have helped his brother kill humans, kill Marguerite; with her endless questions and bright soul sickened him. As much as Gabriel loved his brother, he could never harm innocent children.

Marguerite watched him quietly, processing the pain in his voice easily. Pain recognized pain, and she understood family fights all too well. She tried to puzzle out what he meant, because a lot of angels had fallen. Her father's voice curled in her head softly, "How you are fallen from Heaven oh Lucifer, son of the morning!" The idea that Gabriel was Lucifer's brother filled her with a slight sense of dread. "You mean the devil don't you?"

"Please don't…" Gabriel looked down and took a shaky breath, "he has a name kiddo."

The name terrified her, represented things she didn't like to think about, things that filled her nightmares, but Gabriel had already done so much for her, and it was just a name after all. "Lucifer then, you're talking about Lucifer."

He gave an almost unnoticeable nod, "I know he's evil, and he's done some pretty messed up shit," he couldn't even bring himself to feel bad for swearing in front of a child, "but he's my brother. I don't like all the names attached to him, I know he deserves them, but I can't hate my big brother Rita," and he really couldn't. He'd tried with all his might over the years to find some grain of hate inside him for Lucifer, but all he felt was disappointment.

"I don't want you to hate your brother," she hated Jessica, she was ashamed to admit it to herself but she did. A small part deep inside her couldn't stand Jessica's existence anymore. She wasn't the mother Marguerite had loved, wasn't the woman who picked her up from school; made her cookies and tucked her in at night. The Jessica she knew was the woman who'd left her Vati; loved her step daughter more than the daughter she had given birth to; this woman was the one who called her crazy, and forced odd pills down her throat. Marguerite was never at peace with the small part of her that hated her own mother, knew it was wrong to hate someone you should love so intensely, but she couldn't stop herself, "It's no fun to hate your family."

"What a sad pair we make kiddo," he wrapped an arm around her softly and pulled her close to him, "you're ten Marguerite, you shouldn't understand any of this."

She snuggled closer to him, buried her face in his coarse, green jacket, "I haven't felt ten for a long time Gabriel."

"You know this isn't how I wanted this conversation to go," he rubbed her back soothingly, she was so strong, but so fragile. He wondered how long she could hold on like this until she broke to pieces, "this was going to be a fun conversation."

"I had fun."

"You have a really messed up definition of fun kid."

Marguerite laughed, "I got gummy bears. And you're my favorite comic book character."

"Loki? Seriously? You went for the villain," he ruffled her hair, "should have gone for Thor Rita. He's much more reliable."

"So? He's boring. Loki can do magic, like you did with my bear." she looked at him and smiled, "So Loki is obviously cooler."

"I move a bear and suddenly I'm god," he smirked, "literally," he stood and pulled her up brushing dirt and grass from her outfit gently, "you're easy to please."

She watched the sun sink over the horizon slowly, it was already past dark in New York, and Jessica was going to kill her slowly and painfully. She didn't want to go back, wanted to walk down the worn path to Vati's house and stay there until Jessica forgot about her.

"Time to go kiddo," he gave her a sympathetic look and kneeled down so they were eye to eye, "I know you don't want to, but that's part of life. You have to do things you don't want to because it's expected of you," not that he was a prime example seeing how he'd run away, "I'm gonna see you a lot okay?" The radiant smile that lit up her face warmed him inside, "I can't be around all the time though, so you _have_ to keep yourself safe and happy Marguerite." She was heading down a road he didn't want her to go down. She was already so unhappy, and the constant trouble she was in just added to that misery. It was a never ending cycle and if he didn't stop it, one day she'd end up at the end of a rope of her own making.

"Why can't you just make it different? You could make it so I live with Vati and Jessica can't see me. You could change everything." She wanted him to so badly, wanted to go back to being a family with Vati; she could even take back all the nights of yelling if they just stayed _together._

"Here's the thing," he hated denying her anything, and that worried him. He should have no problem saying no to this little girl. "Getting what you want all the time takes all the joy out of life. Sometimes you have to fight for your happiness, and when you find it, it's so much more precious than what's handed to you." He'd learned that the hard way over the years, done terrible things that made his grace pulse with anger, but when he was happy it was precious.

She looked at him sullenly, not wanting to admit that he was right. She was always alone, always ostracized and left out. For two months of the year she was remembered, but for the rest of the time it was never ending winter. Sometimes she got so lonely that she couldn't do anything, just curled up in her bed and stared at the walls of the house she hated so much. Sometimes Jessica would slap her too hard, and she'd stay home for a day so that the bruise faded and the cut cleared up. Sometimes Marguerite just needed someone else there with her, "What if I need you?"

"Then you pray Marguerite."

The air compressed around her again, stealing the words from her mouth, this time around flying seemed easier. She still heard colours and saw sounds, but it was beautiful in a chaotic way. This time she didn't want it to end so quickly, wanted to study the chaos surrounding her.

She landed in front of her house alone. Darkness curled around her and the cold New York breeze nipped at her skin harshly. She walked toward the door slowly, terrified of what she'd find inside. Her hand paused above the doorknob, and she held it there suspended in air, wondering if she would actually summon up enough nerve to walk inside. She cracked the door open slowly, and crept inside silently.

She shoved her hands into her pockets, and was surprised at the hard feeling of a loli-pop meeting her palm softly. She smiled slowly, delighted to have even a little piece of candy that proved that Gabriel had been with her.

"Mom! Dad! She's home!"

Marguerite turned and faced the stairs, waited for Jessica and her step-father to run down. The content smile never left her face, even when the yelling and hitting started she just clutched the loli-pop in her pocket tightly. Somehow she knew everything would be okay. Only because Gabriel had said so.

* * *

(A/N): So this www dot deviantart dot com/art/True-Form-Gabriel-333526186 is what I based Gabriel's true form off of. This is NOT my art though, and I'm not taking credit for it. I just thought is was the coolest most bad ass true form I had seen for Gabriel so far.


	5. Summertime Sadness

Marguerite curled up in her bed and tried to finish up the last of her summer homework. Between spending time with Vati, and Gabriel popping in like an annoying chipmunk she hadn't gotten _any _of her summer homework done. She silently cursed her impulsive decision to take more advanced classes in sophomore year. As if bullies and normal classes weren't enough, now she'd gone and placed herself in AP.

She groaned and pushed the books off her bed with a loud crash, pressing her palms to her eyes and leaning her head back against the wall…hard. She was an idiot, a complete and total idiot. Freshmen year had been horrifying enough. Her step sister and the clique she was part of were constantly ganging up on her, the older kids and jocks followed their example and Marguerite constantly found herself in the center of fights. That is until she had broken the quarterback's nose, and some other asshole's jaw, then they all knew to keep physical distance, but if anything their taunts hurt worse than her constantly bloody face.

"Are you doing alright Bienchen?" (A/N: German for little bee) Vati had come into the room without her knowing, and he smiled at her warmly, "I heard a crash, and I thought that maybe your homework had fallen to its death again."

They laughed warmly, and he came to sit down next to her, wrapping strong arms around her as she cuddled closer to his side. She might have been 16, but she knew she'd always be Vati's Bienchen. He'd called her that since she was little, he used to read to her in his soothing voice, and her favorite poem was the Little Busy Bee. She'd have him read it to her every night until she moved away, and then every night she was with him.

"You seem troubled Bienchen, what's on your mind," Vati held her and she snuggled closer with a sigh tears filling up brown eyes hot and thick. She tried to keep them from spilling over.

"I don't want to go back," two months wasn't long enough with Vati, and she only had two weeks left before she had to board another plane and go back to Jessica and New York, "I hate the school, I hate where we live, and I just want to stay here Vati."

Her stroked her hair soothingly, rocking her gently in the cradle of his arms, "Es tut meir leid Bienchen. I would help if I could, but it is a good school," he shrugged softly, "I want you to have the best education, and you will become great Marguerite."

She didn't feel great, all she felt was tired and worn. Every time she left a small part of her withered, and every time she came back Vati looked older than ever. His auburn hair had faded to mostly grey, and there were sharp lines around his expressive  
brown eyes and mouth that had never been there before. He was tired and worn and Marguerite could do nothing to help him.

"I'll be alright Vati," she never told him about the fights and the taunts, how hard it was for her to go to school every day, "my classes are just hard is all." The lies burned her mouth and she clutched him tighter impulsively. She _hated_ lying to Vati but she couldn't tell him the truth, couldn't tell him about the hospital visits and broken bones, about the taunts that made her want to hide. She hadn't even told _Gabriel._ Though she was sure he knew.

"It'll get easier Bienchen. Don't you worry," he kissed the top of her head and held her silently for a few moments before letting her go gently, "Don't stay up too late, we're going out tomorrow after all." He kissed her forehead softly, brushing back messy curls, "Gute Nacht Bienchen."

"Gute Nacht Vati."

He closed the door as he left trapping Marguerite in silence once again. Thoughts swirled in her head chaotically, and she stared at her ceiling listlessly, trying to will them away. Every year she tried to find some way to stay with Vati, and every year she failed. Marguerite knew she would fail again this year, but she thought anyway. Gabriel was out of the question because of his stupid "Can't give you everything you want" policy. Jessica kept her in New York out of spite, Marguerite was sure of it.

"Isn't it a little late to be thinking deep think-ie thoughts?"

It was a testament to how often he popped in that she didn't even jump, "Never too late for think-ie thoughts," she turned her head lightly to smile weakly at Gabriel. She took the offered loli-pop quietly and popped it into her mouth, "You've been gone for a while?" It was more a question than a statement; she hadn't seen any sign of the pesky archangel for over a month.

"Been busy with some god stuff kiddo," he stretched out next to her let his head rest on the pillow next to hers. His honey hair was a stark contrast against the red sheets, and she felt the most ridiculous urge to run her fingers through his hair, "and I've been busy with Kali," he shot her a pervy smirk, "that woman is all hands."

Marguerite gave him her best bitch face, ignoring the stab of jealously deep in her stomach. She defiantly didn't feel anything for Gabriel, nope. She was just attached to him, and if she had come to think of him as _her_ archangel what of it? "Kali….you mean the Indian goddess don't you?"

He nodded contently before popping a loli-pop onto his mouth, "The one and only."

"And she knows you're an archangel?"

"Are you crazy? Heck no." he brushed hair out of her face gently, "You're still the only one who knows Rita."

She tried desperately to ignore the warmth that settled in her stomach, she was still the only one who Gabriel really trusted. Even if he was….doing…things… with this goddess she was sleeping with a lie, and Marguerite was cuddling with the truth, "Mmmm, and it doesn't bother you at all that she thinks she's sleeping with Loki?"

"Pfft. No," he tapped her nose gently and pulled her against him softly, settling the covers around them with a small snap, "I technically am Loki, and it's more of a sex thing than a feeling thing kiddo."

Marguerite looked at him blankly, unaware that you could have one without the other. She'd thought sex was supposed to be…special. Even if you didn't wait till marriage and whatever, she was sure it was something sacred, showing someone you loved them so much you wanted to get as close to them as you physically could. "You know it's really easy to forget you're an angel sometimes."

"_That_ is the point," his amber eyes roved over her slowly, his little Rita had grown up quite a bit. She was still a child, but he could defiantly see the woman that she would eventually grow into, both mentally _and _physically. He felt an irrational stab of guilt, what did it matter if he appreciated her body? He wasn't going to _act_ on it, she was far too young and he had a feeling she'd be far less than willing, "besides being an angel and following all those rules," he gagged theatrically, "booooring."

She giggled quietly and let her head rest on his shoulder softly, "Only _you_ would think being an archangel is boring."

"Maybe," he rubbed her back softly, "maybe not. I haven't exactly talked with them recently."

She fought to keep her eyes open, but she was fighting a losing battle, "'M…sorry…"

Gabriel chuckled; then snapped his fingers once to plunge the room into darkness. Marguerite fell asleep against him silently, head resting on his shoulder and pale fingers curling into his shirt, holding him in place.

He sat there in the dark, watching her breathe silently. It terrified him in ways that he was unwilling to admit, but being here, with this woman child, just _cuddling _made him happier than every orgasm and passionate night with Kali or any other woman ever had. The idea of her becoming a woman scared the hell out of him; because he could already feel the longing for her deep in his grace, and once she was an adult…he wasn't sure he could keep his hands to himself.

He watched her silently, letting her face be his dream since angels didn't sleep. Until she could decide that she wanted him, he was content just to hold her while she slept. She looked so peaceful and innocent, brown eyes closed to the world around her, cuddled up around an archangel for protection.

The rest of her summer passed in a similar manner. She'd spend the day with Vati, going out or just staying in; enjoying her freedom and happiness for as long as she could. At night Gabriel would curl up next to her, making pervy comments about Kali, and complaining that he was missing orgasms to cuddle. When she told him, in a syrupy sweet voice, that he could leave, he shut up and pulled her closer, stating that it was his solemn duty as archangel to make sure she slept well.

On her last morning at Vati's bright bursts of sunlight woke Marguerite up slowly. She opened her eyes groggily and reached out next to her, only to find a small bag of gummy bears sitting on her pillow innocently. She gave them a good natured scowl, "Bastard is trying to make me fat." She'd eat them anyway, she always did. She got up to pack her suitcase, only to find all her things tucked inside and folded neatly. She looked at it silently, fighting down the urge to mess everything up in the hope that she'd have to re-pack and miss her flight.

Vati and her ate silently, neither of them wanting to talk about her leaving. He drove her to the airport slower than necessary and walked all the way to security with her. He held her tightly, not letting go for too short a time before releasing her and telling her he loved her. She walked through security silently, and looked back constantly until she couldn't see him anymore.

She waited at her gate sullenly; stomach churning, and eyes burning like fire. She boarded the plane and sat down in first class with all the enthusiasm of a prisoner walking to the gallows. As the plane took off, Marguerite couldn't help but wonder if this was how Lucifer felt when he was cast out of heaven.

* * *

(A/N): I know this is a really short chapter, but the next few chapters are going to be a lot longer (at least I hope they are).


	6. Don't try to fix me I'm not broken

Marguerite watched buildings pass by listlessly as Steve drove her and her step sister to school cheerfully. Sophomore year had started out exactly as Marguerite figured it would: hard, tiring, and painful. She'd been shoved into no less than four lockers, and had been taunted by some idiots whose favorite come back was "Your mom." Okay, maybe that was a _bit_ entertaining; especially since Neanderthals could come up with more intelligent comments. Overall though it was just another year of high school, another year of trying to stick to the shadows and survive the day with as few bruises as possible.

Steve parked in front of the school, and her step sister hopped out excitedly, cheerleading uniform rolled up to an incredibly short length, before she ran off to join the group of popular kids that consisted of jocks, cheerleaders, and rich trust fund babies. Marguerite gathered her stuff silently, mentally preparing herself for another long day. She was about to slide out, when Steve grabbed her arm softly.

"Look, I know this school hasn't been easy on you," sympathetic blue eyes stared at her, "but if you need _anything_ call me and I'll come get you right away. No questions asked, I'll just pick you up, and we can tell your mom the school called and said you were sick."

Marguerite and Steve had come to an understanding a few years previous. Steve had taken her out for ice cream and just _talked_ to her, he'd put all his thoughts and feelings out on the table honestly, giving her a chance to understand where he was coming from before asking anything of her. No one outside of Vati and Gabriel had done that in _years._ That was novel enough that she had listened.

Steve told her that he wasn't looking to replace her Vati; all he wanted was for the two of them to get along. He even apologized to her for breaking up her parents, and in her mind that was monumental. He'd taken the time to understand her point of view, then given her his calmly; letting her choose what she was going to accept without shoving a "truth" down her throat.

After that talk they got along fine, and slowly their relationship melted into something more like father and step-daughter. He'd even teamed up with her Vati, getting in contact with him, calling and making sure she got more time than two months out of the year with him. Steve had become her greatest ally in her step-family, and she was always going to be grateful for that.

"Yea," she smiled a bit, "I'll try dad." In her mind he'd earned that title, he'd never be Vati, but he could still be special. She gathered her stuff and ran to the school just as the warning bell rang. She dodged through crowds of people, waved to the small amount of kids whom she got along with and headed to her locker with eyes open for any sign of trouble.

Scuffed linoleum floors and peeling red lockers surrounded her on all sides, what was at one time, a shining, prestigious school, was now just an old public school in the high end neighborhoods of New York City, and just like the area surrounding it, the life it once held had faded to jaded stone and cracked floors.

She spun the dial on her locker carefully, throwing in books, and pulling out papers and things she'd need for the next few periods. Her eyes paused on a few cartoons that she hung on the door of the locker. Gabriel had drawn them out for her years ago, but they still managed to make her smile; sometimes they were the only thing that got her through the day. She took a deep breath to fortify herself for the day and shut the locker resolutely.

"Marguerite!" An excited mass of teenage girl pulled up next to her locker, barely stopping in time to avoid colliding with Marguerite painfully. Macy had been her friend since 8th grade when Marguerite had taking a beating for her, from then on they'd been inseparable, nothing could come between her and the smaller girl practically vibrating next to her.

"What's going on now?" Marguerite leaned against the locker with a fond smile. Macy always had some exciting news to convey.

"There's a new senior!" Macy grabbed Marguerite's arm and seemed to be trying to pry it off from the way she flailed it about, "This is one of the greatest things ever!"

Marguerite winced and pulled her arm away gently, "So? There's a ton of seniors at this school." They made up the biggest class of assholes and douche nozzles Marguerite had ever seen in her life. There were a few good people among them, and they were, surprisingly, cheerleaders. Most of the senior cheerleaders had latched on to underclassmen in a mother hen type of way, and if they wanted to protect the younger kids Marguerite wasn't going to complain. They just never seemed to have the time to protect Marguerite or Macy.

She pulled Macy out of the way of one of the upperclassmen carefully. The older boys were willing to pick a fight over _anything_, even something as simple as bumping into someone. Marguerite hadn't gotten into a fight yet, and she was hoping to keep it that way for a long time.

Macy didn't even notice, too excited over her news, "You don't understand," blue eyes glinted and Macy's straight, blonde hair fell in her face messily, "_everyone_ wants to get with this guy. He's got all the girls in a tizzy, and _none_ of the jocks will mess with him over it." Macy smiled, "And _I_ am going to make friends with him."

"Why? You don't even know the guy," Marguerite hated to be the downer, but she didn't want to see her friend hurt, for all they knew he was a serial rapist and closet axe murderer. No way in hell was Marguerite going to let some senior guy mess with her friend, "How you gonna go about it?"

"He has art with us and…" her friend suddenly clutched her arm, cutting off the blood flow to Marguerite's fingers. "There he is!" Macy was practically screeching, and Marguerite could barely keep herself from wincing.

She couldn't, however, keep her eyes from moving down the hallway curiously. Everyone was parting like the red sea, and whispered murmurs followed puppy eyed girls. Marguerite couldn't catch a glimpse of what they were looking at, so she pushed her glasses up her face and watched as some boy strode down the hallway like he owned the place.

When he did come into clear view, she didn't see what all the fuss was about; he was barely taller than Marguerite, kinda scrawny too. His leather jacket glinted in the dim, florescent lights, but he walked with total confidence. His honey hair was slicked back from a smooth face, and amber eyes glinted mischievously as he took in all his future worshipers.

Wait…amber eyes…Marguerite did a double take, and could practically feel her jaw drop as she took in the boy again. Oh…oh no. She was asleep, this was a dream. "Gabriel?" Now that she was getting a clear look at him, Marguerite knew without a doubt that the boy making his way down the hallway in her direction was Gabriel. He was _a lot_ younger, his face wasn't as defined, nor was it dusted with the light layer of stubble she had come to expect from the archangel.

"How'd you know his name?" Macy looked at her friend suspiciously for a moment before a wide smile curved her face, "Oh. My. GOD! You know him don't you?! You know Gabriel Speight?! How?!"

"No I…" Marguerite tried to melt back into the lockers, what the hell was Gabriel doing in her high school? "Just…I…maybe…" she was a terrible liar on a good day, but in this type of shock she couldn't have convinced a baby that the sky was blue. She groaned softly and looked over to see her step sister staring at Gabriel with possessive hunger. Marguerite's temper flared in response, because as far as she was concerned, teenager or not, Gabriel was still _her_ archangel, but she wasn't dumb enough to pick a fight with Michelle on her own turf. That was a recipe for suicide, because it turned out jocks didn't care about hitting a girl if it meant the approval of a cheerleader.

Gabriel seemed to be looking around for something; his amber eyes were darting about the hall taking in glaring boys and drooling girls with an air of disinterest. When his amber eyes caught sight of Marguerite his cocky grin widened and he sauntered over to her lazily.

Marguerite bit her lip and tried to make herself as small as possible. Gabriel was going to be the death of her, plain and simple. She looked up and Michelle was shooting her with a look of utter dislike, and Marguerite _knew_ she was completely and totally screwed if Gabriel came over and talked to her right now, but she couldn't help but want him to, she wanted to flaunt him to Michelle, show her that Marguerite knew the boy everyone wanted.

"Long time no see little Rita." He leaned against her locker, and up close like this he seemed to tower over her. His hair was slicked back out of his eyes, but small locks fell forward in his face, and Marguerite fought the urge to brush them aside. His leather jacket crinkled softly with every move he took, and, in her opinion, his jeans fit just a little _too_ well. Not that she was looking. He leaned closer casually, and obviously her stomach had decided to try out for the Olympics without telling her because it was somersaulting like a pro.

Gabriel winked at her and she felt a fond smile curve against her lips, "You look like a wanna be greaser Gabriel. " And what a fabulous look it was. Marguerite's poor hormones had raised the white flag and were _completely_ ready to give themselves over to him, but not like this. She definitely preferred adult Gabriel, as weird as that seemed to her, but that didn't mean she couldn't appreciate teenage Gabriel, "It's not the 1950's."

"You wound me Rita," he brushed his knuckles across her cheek softly; "I think this is a pretty sweet outfit."

"Of course you do," her stomach bubbled warmly and the feeling spread through her body with languid ease until she was covered in warmth. Her eyes followed honey strands as they fell into amber eyes; to hell with it. She brushed the runaway strands of honey from his face, and delighted in the way his eyes lit up at her touch. He pressed closer to her, practically pinning her to the locker with his lower body. Teenage Gabriel was certainly touchier than adult Gabriel. Marguerite couldn't find it in her to be embarrassed, half the school was gaping at her, but all she cared about was the amber eyes directly in front of her. Macy made a small sound beside her and Marguerite smiled softly before motioning to a vibrating Macy fondly, "This is my friend Macy."

Gabriel turned, body leaving Marguerite's, before he gave a flamboyant bow, and took Macy's hand in his, kissing it theatrically, "Any friend of Rita is a friend of mine."

"Is he real?"

Marguerite tried not to laugh at the blissed out shock in Macy's voice, "Unfortunately yes." She couldn't believe this was happening, but it was one of the greatest things ever. _Totally_ worth all the hateful glares she was getting from all the upperclassmen girls.

Gabriel curled his arm around her shoulder and pulled her close to him gently, sending everyone in eye distance a possessive look that clearly said 'fuck with her and I fuck with you painfully'. Marguerite felt her face heat up, and she pressed closer to Gabriel contently, letting the familiar scent of candy and lightning envelope her. She felt Gabriel brush his lips across her temple softly, "What type of archangel would I be if I let you keep going here alone kiddo?"

Tears welled up in her eyes and she buried her face in his side softly. Gabriel knew what was going on. Gabriel knew and Gabriel really cared, cared so much he was wasting his time at her school to make sure she was okay. He was probably giving up time with Kali just to make sure Marguerite was happy.

"Thank you," she whispered the words into his jacket wetly. Something about this seemed so familiar, and her mind flashed back to an empty meadow six years previous. Guess it was her turn to be thankful.

"Anything for you kiddo." He meant it. Anything he could do to make her safe and happy he'd get it done. He couldn't give her everything she wanted, and the idea stung, but he could do his best to be there for her. Gabriel knew he was in a world of trouble, knew he had half bonded with the little woman child curled up against his side, but he wouldn't take it back for anything, because for the first time in millennia he felt alive, really and truly alive instead of just existing.

"What's your first class kiddo?"

Macy was watching them quietly, easily picking up on the undercurrents of emotion between the two in front of her, "Marguerite has AP world history." Macy held out Marguerite's things to her, sighing in relief when her friend took them and hugged her. She couldn't bear to lose the only friend she had to a boy who obviously meant more.

"What about you Miss. Macy?" Gabriel looked at her politely while leaning against the locker next to them territorially, amber eyes constantly scanning the crowd moving around them for any sign of threat.

"Oh..I have.." she tried desperately to remember her first period, mind fraying under the direct attention of amber eyes.

Marguerite sensed her friend's distress and looked at Gabriel calmly, "She has psychology first period."

"Well well," Gabriel let a grin curl across his face slowly, "looks like me and Miss. Macy here have the same class together." He held out his arm to Marguerite, then to Macy making sure both girls had looped their arms through his before he walked them down the hall confidently, "We'll drop you off Marguerite, then Miss. Macy and I can come get you for art."

"How'd you know we had art?"

Gabriel gave Macy a soothing look covering his tracks quickly, "I snuck a glance at Rita's schedule."

Gabriel dropped her off to history with an affectionate peck on the cheek, his warm lips lingered longer than was strictly friendly, and she could feel the slightest trace of familiar stubble against her cheek. The smile Gabriel gave her was predatory, and Marguerite was once again reminded that the man in front of her was anything but human. Gabriel brushed the tips of his fingers across her flushed cheek, before waving cheekily at the scowling teacher and making his way to art with Macy.

Marguerite watched them go quietly, wondering what the hell had just happened, and what the lovely consequences were going to be when she got home. The look on Michelle's face had been one of all out war, but Marguerite couldn't be bothered with it at the moment. She sat down in her seat right before the bell rang, and nearly laughed out loud when a bright blue sucker fell out of her pocket to the floor at her feet.

That night at home, Marguerite was treated to flesh melting glares courtesy of Michelle, until dinner time. They were all sitting peacefully for once, going over how they're day had been when Michelle looked over at Marguerite with a nasty smirk, "She's got an admirer."

"I do not," Marguerite's stomach twisted into knots and she ignored her step sister as best as she could, "he's just my friend."

"Oh is he," Michelle looked at Jessica pleadingly, "well he's the _most_ popular boy at school right now," her tone took on a simpering quality that made Marguerite sick, "and _I_ am totally going to go out with him, but only," she gave Marguerite a nasty once over, "if you tell her to stay away from him, because I can't get to know him if _she's_ ruining everything."

Marguerite stood up angrily voice full of outrage, "You can't tell me…"

"I agree with Michelle," Jessica ate calmly, completely unconcerned with the pained expression on Marguerite's face, "you should give the boy some space Marguerite, I'm sure he's being nice and all," she flashed Marguerite a cutting smile, "but he'd be better served with Michelle, she is, after all, prettier and has many more friends," she drank her wine and gave Marguerite a falsely sympathetic smile, "that's just how the world is sweetie."

Marguerite stared at Jessica silently, tears welling up in dull brown eyes. That's just how it was, how it always would be. Marguerite knew Michelle was prettier, with her straight brown hair, blue eyes and thin body. She always looked perfect no matter what she was doing. Marguerite's auburn hair was always a curly mess, and she was on the slightly chubby side of curvy.

"That's a terrible thing to say," Steve gave his wife and daughter a scathing look, "I'm not going to stand for it. If this boy wants to hang out with Marguerite then so be it."

"But daddy…"

"Don't 'but daddy' me Michelle," he'd pulled on his best lawyer voice and was glaring at them sternly, blue eyes shimmering with anger, "If this boy wants to spend time with Marguerite, then you'll just have to get over it and move on. You can't decide for people who they can and cannot spend time with."

"Steve you're being unfair, I'm sure this boy wants to spend time with Michelle more than Marguerite, he'd have to be blind not to."

"Would he Jessica?" Steve leaned over toward his wife, eyes alight with righteous rage, "That is _your_ daughter you're putting down, _your own child_ whose feelings you're not taking into consideration at all. Michelle can't get everything she wants just because she thinks she deserves it," Steve shot Marguerite a kind smile, "if this boy wants to spend time with Marguerite then I have absolutely no problem with it, hell I welcome it. Marguerite doesn't get nearly enough time with friends."

"Why would anyone want to spend time with _you_," Michelle was in full tantrum mode which promised to be spectacularly horrible, "No one likes you." Harsh blue eyes bore into brown, "You're just a little freak, and no one cares about you. You've got a dead beat dad, one pathetic friend. Everything would just be better if you were dead."

Silence rang out thickly, as Marguerite's vision seemed to bleed red. She was shaking so much that the water in her cup sloshed around the side threatening to spill over onto the pristine table under it. "You little…" her mind was blank, and she couldn't even think of something nasty enough to say in reply. Because you could say whatever you wanted about her, she'd probably already thought it about herself, but you never mentioned Macy and her Vati. Those two were some of the most important people in the world to her.

"I think it's time for you to go to your room Marguerite," Jessica was glaring at her hatefully, "You've caused enough problems for tonight."

That was all she could take before she snapped, "I've caused trouble?! Me?!" Marguerite laughed hollowly, "This little bitch has caused more trouble and problems for me than you could write a book about! She's had me beat up, had people steal my stuff," the anger hurt, but it felt so nice to just let go. Marguerite had been holding it in for years, letting it bubble and churn inside her, "She had boys go in the locker room to take pictures of Macy changing," sharp brown eyes bore into the stunned people in front of her, "changing! That's sexual harassment! Your perfect little cheerleader sucks cock in the bathroom so people will give her answers to tests; boys get more ass from her than a toilet seat. She goes out of her way to make everyone around her miserable because it entertains her. And you know what?" Marguerite threw her arms out, "One day it's going to catch up to her tenfold, it's gonna come back and bite her in her little slut ass."

She didn't wait for any reply; she grabbed her coat and ran outside letting the door slam behind her with a loud clang. She walked aimlessly, anger shielding her from the freezing wind and light sprinkling of snow in the air. Two more years, she sank down on a park bench far from her house, she had two more years left of this…this _hell_ and she didn't know if she could take it. She knew her mother hated her, but that much? To the extent where she didn't even want Marguerite to have friends? It hurt, hurt her so badly, and she could feel something deep inside her that had been breaking slowly finally give way with a dull snap. It was never, ever going to get better than this. She was always going to be second best, be the afterthought. Even after she left home because really who wanted her? She had one friend, no romantic interests, no one cared about her, she was so pathetically human that one day even Gabriel would grow tired of her and leave.

She stared at the trees in front of her numbly, and slowly slid her whittling knife out of her jacket. The blade glinted in the dull light that radiated weakly from a street lamp a few paces from her seat. The knife just begged to be used, begged to be tarnished. She ran the pad of her thumb over the edge of the blade, hissing softly at the straight line of red that slowly appeared on her thumb and dripped down to her palm. Marguerite wondered how much blood she could lose before everything became black, how long she could sit there without anyone noticing. Days probably, possibly even weeks until they found her…if they found her.

The blood dripped onto her white pants and spread slowly, leaving a dark stain against the blank perfection of the jeans. She pulled her sleeves back slowly, pondered the smooth perfection of her wrists, a pale canvas that she could do anything with. The blood from her thumb smudged against her wrist, staining the skin a rusty crimson. Her mind ran to Macy briefly, ran to the deep scars that transverse her wrists; thought of the time her friend had spent in the hospital before coming back and begging Marguerite not to leave her.

The knife froze on her skin and she stared at it, languid curiosity turning to horror. What was she doing? She hurled the knife across the park and leaned against the bench heavily, what was she _doing_? She couldn't leave Macy behind to defend for herself, couldn't let Gabriel and Vati and even Steve think they had failed her. Christ she was only 16, what was she doing sitting alone on a bench with a knife pressed to her skin? Was this coping? Was this what she had allowed Jessica and Michelle to turn her into?

She let her head rest against the frozen wood silently before curling up on the bench. She didn't even have enough energy left in her to call Gabriel, through prayer or otherwise. She shivered mutely and stared at a dying tree pensively. She knew she could only handle this so much longer until she shattered. Broken not quite ruined. Problem was she didn't know how far she could be pushed until she was ruined beyond repair. You could only fix something so many times before it was too shattered to piece together. Only re-glue the pieces so many times before they were too tiny to find. She could only live for everyone else so long before it became too much.

She fell asleep in the cold, on a lonely bench in an abandoned park. Sometime through the night she was surrounded by warmth and she snuggled closer to it, feeling safe in the strong arms around her, "Oh kiddo…" a deep voice whispered across her conscious softly, so familiar and warm that Marguerite was sure she was home.

The next few days passed almost ideally for Marguerite. Michelle and Jessica left her alone at the house, because after she stormed out Steve had taken them to hell and back using every long and negative word in his vast lawyer vocabulary. Gabriel was practically glued to her side during school hours. She'd grown used to having him around all the time, popping up when she was alone, giving jocks and jerks evil looks when they so much as sneezed in her general direction.

She knew he was the one who'd found her in the park, because every now and then he'd look at her wrists and sigh lowly, the sound so full of sadness that it made Marguerite's heart ache. He'd pull her close, uncaring of where they were and who was watching, and whisper to her softly, telling her how much she meant to him, and how much she had to live for.

Tuesday started out in a blurry haze; she hadn't slept, which meant she actually had time to eat and put on makeup before Steve had driven her to school. She walked to her locker yawning into the crook of her arm and spun the dial on her lock carefully, she'd spent the night up talking with Gabriel, and she could feel the effects of that choice keenly. She yawned slowly, and let her forehead rest against the cool metal lightly. She could sleep in art and completely get away with it since the teacher worshiped the ground she walked on.

"Marguerite!" Macy skidded over to her giggling like a child, "Did you _see_ what Gabriel is wearing today?"

"Clothing I hope." Her voice was slightly muffled by the metal her face was pressed against. What had Gabriel done now? He's spent his entire first few weeks at the school pulling small pranks, giving assholes what they deserved and just being an all around trickster. She defiantly understood why he was Loki now, because the alligator in the football locker room? Priceless.

"Barely," she giggled and pulled a Rock Star out of her locker before pressing it in Marguerite's hand gently, "You look like you could use this."

"You're an angel," she popped the can open and guzzled blissful mouthfuls of the sweet soda. As the caffeine swept through her, she processed her friend's earlier comment with slight trepidation, "Wait…what do you mean _barely_?"

"You're just going to have to see for yourself, because I really," she laughed, "really can't do the outfit justice …I mean…I don't even know what possessed Gabriel to wear this."

"What makes Gabriel do anything?" Really the man was harder to predict than the damn apocalypse. He would do anything to make her smile, but he never stuck to one pattern. Marguerite could easily see him tricking other gods and taking candy offerings from worshipers. She shook her head softly and waited by her locker patiently for Gabriel to show up.

When he did show up she was stuck dumb for moments before regaining her voice, "What the…_hell_?" And really desperate times call for desperate words, because Marguerite's mind could barely process the sight of Gabriel in shorts…short shorts…red…short shorts. She gave Macy a horrified look, "What in God's name is he wearing?"

The shorts were defiantly too tight, they hugged him in all the ways they should. Marguerite couldn't help but give an appreciative glance south, and really who could blame her? She wasn't the only one, and Gabriel _defiantly_ didn't seem to mind. In fact it seemed like he reveled in the attention.

Marguerite leaned against her locker heavily and shared a glance with Macy, this was both the best and the worst thing they had ever seen in this high school, and really it was leaning  
toward the best. Because Gabriel really should have looked flamboyantly ridiculous in those shorts, but somehow he pulled it off. Marguerite was convinced it was angel magic, because if any other boy at the school had done this it would have turned out terribly.

"There are my two favorite ladies," Gabriel sauntered over to them comfortably, "how's it going today?"

"What," Marguerite struggled to regain her voice; because if she thought he looked good far away, up close was much worse. Her hormones were doing a jig in her stomach again. Something they really seemed to enjoy doing around Gabriel lately, "Gabriel what are you _wearing_?!" She barely managed to convey a tone of horror with the words.

Gabriel gave her a knowing smirk, "You don't like them? I myself," he wrapped an arm around her shoulder, "think these are comfy as sin."

Macy gave him a once over, oh yea defiantly sin alright, "So do half the girls in the school," her tone was dry and she smiled at Marguerite before shifting her attention back to Gabriel, "Not to mention the fact that those are completely dress code."

Gabriel waved a hand nonchalantly, "So? Not like anyone really gives a damn, otherwise half the girls here would be screeewed." His fingers ran through the curls trailing down Marguerite's back softly, "You're just jealous because I look fabulous in these."

"Of course you do," Marguerite let her head rest on his shoulder tiredly, before muttering low enough that only he would hear, "Next time you keep me up all damn night you had better make sure there's no school the next day."

He kissed her forehead tenderly, "No problem Rita." He wrapped strong arms around her gently, and let her doze softly against his shoulder. He let his cheek rest against the top of her head, feeling the silken locks against his skin, and just _barely_ kept himself from wondering what they would feel like all over his bare skin. That was a thought for another time.

Macy watched them silently, wondering how the hell the two were so oblivious about each other. They obviously cared a hell of a lot about each other, but they stubbornly insisted on remaining friends. She shook her head softly and smiled at Gabriel, "I'm gonna head to class."

"Alright, maybe we'll catch up with you."

"Maybe?"

Gabriel smiled mischievously and shrugged, "I don't think Rita's all that up to school today do you?"

They both looked down to Marguerite who had fallen asleep upright, with her face buried in Gabriel's neck. Her pale fingers were tangled in his shirt lightly, and she looked completely happy where she was.

"No she doesn't."

"Told ya," Gabriel hoisted Marguerite up expertly, cradling her in his arms protectively. Since she was asleep and no one else could see, he let his wings out silently to wrap around her sleeping form gently. The lights above his head flickered as his grace was released in so close a proximity, but he didn't even spare them a glance.

Macy looked at him for a few moments, "You're really good for her you know," her voice was quiet, and she didn't really care that the bell had rung, "she's never been this happy. You just," Macy gave him a fierce look, "You can't hurt her Gabriel. Everyone hurts her, and I swear if you hurt her you'll destroy her, and I can't let that happen. So just," she gave her sleeping friend a helpless look, "don't hurt her."

"I wouldn't dream of it," Gabriel watched Macy walk away, internally glad that Marguerite had at least one loyal friend outside of him. Because sometimes his little human was so solitary that it worried him.

She was his alright. He flew them out to the little field in Indiana silently. He was done waiting to let her know, done being patient. He'd planned on waiting years to let her know his intentions, but after seeing her in that park, knife against her skin, blood smearing her wrist…there was no way he was leaving her in the dark, no way he was leaving her life up to fate, or heaven forbid his _Father_. Because none of that could be trusted.

He played with her hair absently, lying propped on his side watching her sleep peacefully. Gabriel sighed, feeling the weight of millennia and countless years on him. He was going to ask her to give up so much. She'd never age, could never have children with him. Eventually she'd have to watch her earth turn to dust and be consumed by the little star that lit her solar system.

Marguerite woke slowly, warm sunlight streaming through lush trees to warm pale skin. She opened her eyes slowly, raising a hand to shield them from the morning sunlight. Her mouth pulled up into an amused smile, this definitely wasn't her art classroom. She rolled slightly, and met Gabriel's amber eyes calmly, "Knew it was you."

"Who else kidnaps you for the fun of it kiddo?"

"No one," she stretched languidly, letting out tiny purring noises as Gabriel's deft fingers swam through her curls gently, "You're touchy today."

"You don't seem to be complaining."

"I'm not."

Peaceful silence settled around them comfortably, and Marguerite tried not to notice just how close they were to each other. Gabriel's hips were cradled against hers lightly and her legs were tangled up with his. Gabriel's chest was almost touching hers, and his nose was brushing against hers lightly. He was so warm, warmer than any human was, Marguerite could almost envision him as his very own sun, pulsing with light and power giving life to everything around him.

"You really shouldn't look at me like that Rita."

"Like what?"

"Like I hung the sun in the damn sky."

She felt her cheeks heat up and cursed how easily she gave emotions away when she was tired. She was acting ridiculous, and it was obviously making Gabriel uncomfortable.

"Oh kiddo," he carded both hands through her hair with a blissful sigh, "what am I going to do with you? You have no idea what I want from you."

A slight tingle of dread curled in her stomach at his words. Want with her? What could Gabriel possibly want with her? She looked at him quizzically; brown eyes alight with never ending curiosity.

"At least you sensible enough to worry when an archangel wants something from you," he laughed at the shocked expression that stamped itself on her face, "yea kiddo, I can read your mind."

Marguerite glared at him for a few moments, "So ever since you've known me you've just been listening in to my thoughts?"

"Nope," Gabriel wrapped his arms around her waist and pulled her flush against him, delighting in the small gasp she let out against his shoulder. He kissed her forehead tenderly, "You have no idea how precious you are to me."

Marguerite blushed slowly, could feel the burning heat beneath her cheeks. What the hell had gotten into Gabriel? He was _never_ like this, never so open and touchy and…anything less than friendly really. She let her hands run up his chest slowly, completely baffled by his behavior, but enjoying the feeling of his warm skin through his thin shirt. He was still wearing the ridiculous shorts, and in his adult form they seemed a bit more comical then they had earlier.

He gave her a wicked smirk, one that sent chills rushing down her spine pleasurably, "I can lose the shorts if you really want me to Rita."

Her eyes widened comically, and she scowled when he chuckled at her. God he was such a tease, "Why are we here this time Gabriel?" Because it really seemed like only life changing things happened in this field. If he only brought her here to laugh at her, angel or not, she was gonna punch him in his smug face.

He grabbed her hand softly and kissed it tenderly, almost apologetically, "I didn't come here to laugh at you kiddo. Far from it," he sighed slowly, relaxation and ease gone from his form. Marguerite could literally feel the tension run through him as his body stiffened against hers.

"We gotta…talk kiddo."

Marguerite looked up at him, "See that sentence," she let her fingers run through his hair softly because it was only fair that she got to play with it some of the time, "does not put me at ease Gabriel."

He threaded his fingers thru hers softly and pulled them from his hair softly. There was no trace of mischief in his amber eyes, and Marguerite was suddenly struck by how _ancient_ he looked. Not physically no, but his eyes held the weight of eons of knowledge, they had seen the very beginning and no doubt would see the very end of everything. She realized that this was going to be a _very_ adult conversation and she didn't know if she was completely ready for it, but she'd try.

"I am not a kind being Marguerite. I am literally older than dirt; I have seen the creation of this planet and every human being on it. I have lead armies to battle, killed, tortured, and maimed all under the slightest orders and I enjoyed doing it. I have hated humans with a passion," his eyes found hers, pinned her to the earth under their relentless gaze, "I was willing to fall with Lucifer because I despised humans," the thought of Gabriel as a fallen angel terrified her, because she knew exactly how powerful he was, could feel it thrumming through him like lightning whenever she touched him, "I was my Father's messenger, his judgment on earth. As a god I have killed humans, accepted sacrifices bathed in blood."

She could see all of it in the back of her mind, see him rushing into battle shining with righteous intent; see him in all his glory telling Mary about the child she carried. The cruel parts of him were harder to visualize, but if she thought hard enough they'd been there all along. He'd always had a sharp tongue and a slightly viscous edge, but it was hidden under layers of sweets and tricks, never really directed at her in more than a teasing way. She'd learned to be vicious from him, learned how to flay someone alive with a well placed comment.

"You'll never fully understand me kiddo. You'll never fully be able to comprehend me no matter how long you're with me. I'm going to ask a lot from you kiddo," his fingers held her face lightly keeping her still, "I want to bond with you. Take my grace and fill you with it, bind your soul to me. It would make you completely mine."

"Why…" she tried to gather herself, because this…this was big. This was…monumental. Gabriel had never even hinted that he'd cared that deeply for her, or cared for her in any other way than as someone watching over a child or close friend. "Why are you telling me this now? Aren't I…young or something?"

"Because you tried to kill yourself," There was no censure in his voice, just plain fact, "I'm completely unwilling to wait and loose you before I could even _tell_ you. There's only so much I can heal Marguerite, and if you die," he looked at her seriously, "I _can't_ bring you back."

"Bond with me though…that sounds an awful lot like," processing…computing…holy fuck, "did you just ask me to marry you?!"

"You don't need to sound so traumatized about it kiddo."

"You just asked me to marry you! I'm 16 Gabriel!" She wanted to say yes, every fiber of her being was cheering, but she was 16, she'd barely lived.

"Not now," he held her face gently, forced her to focus on him, "later. Soon, but later. I mean…There's a lot you'd give up with me Marguerite."

"Like what?" She was trying so hard not to get lost in his eyes, trying so hard to keep her mind on track.

"You'd never be able to have children with me Rita," he looked at her mournfully, "and I'd be too possessive to let you have one with anyone else."

Well that was a bucket of ice water to the face. She hadn't thought about it in depth before, hell she'd never even thought that hard about _sex_, but she knew somewhere in her mind that she wanted children. To give that up before she'd even had a chance to try…that was hard.

"You'd also never age. You'd have to watch everyone around you fade away and die. You'd be witness to the very end of this planet and none of it would touch you. You'd belong to me completely. Even after this earth is gone and heaven reigns you'd be there not as other humans are but as if it was your home. You'd see it for what it really is."

Marguerite looked at him steadily, tried to ground herself in the facts, because he was laying it all out to her, but it was so…clinical. So impersonal, she had no reason why he was even asking her this, because she had a feeling that this was an all or nothing type of deal. Once she was in she was pretty sure there was no way out. Why was he asking _her _of all beings and people to marry him? He was perfect and she was so…not.

"Oh Rita," he pressed his nose against hers lightly, "Rita, Rita, Rita haven't you figured out how completely in love with you I am?"

She didn't even have a chance to think before his lips were against hers. Gabriel's body pinned hers to the unyielding ground and he propped himself up on strong arms as he consumed her. Her lips moved against his feverishly, and she could feel her body heat up pleasantly; the things that Gabriel could do with his tongue were absolutely sinful and she was addicted to it. It traced her lips lightly, every now and then dipping between them for a quick taste, before pulling back; over and over until Marguerite wanted to scream with frustration. She felt him chuckle darkly against her, the sound going straight to her groin in a rush of wet pleasure.

The kiss was wet, and messy, and sweet, and oh so perfect. Her fingers gripped his hair harshly, dragged him closer so she could kiss him deeper. She moaned softly when his teeth caught her bottom lip, briefly testing her reaction, before nipping and sucking until she opened to him completely. Strong hands gripped her hips tight enough to bruise as his tongue slid between her lips smoothly. Tasting and exploring her mouth as strong fingers moved to tangle themselves into the curls that were splayed out on the ground beneath her.

Marguerite pressed her hips into Gabriel's helplessly as a wave of pleasure poured through her body, brown eyes widened at the unfamiliar hardness pressing against her so intimately, so deliciously. Gabriel growled against her mouth and his hips found an easy rhythm against hers. Pushing and sliding against her center until she was aching and wet. She gripped his shoulders tightly, and was confused when he shuddered with pleasure, lips leaving hers to travel across the delicate skin of her neck. She pressed again and he moaned against her skin, why would his shoulders…oh…his wings. She let her nails drag across his shoulder blades teasingly.

She loved how helpless he seemed under her fingers. His hips thrust and dipped against hers in response to her hands, and he moaned helplessly, voice seeming like thunder as it echoed around her. A soft light geminated from him and it tingled pleasurably against her skin wherever he touched.

She groaned softly as Gabriel bit into her neck sharply, no doubt leaving a vibrant bruise against her milky skin. Her hips rocked into his desperately, she wanted him so _badly_. She couldn't even give words to her want; somehow she knew that there was more to this. More to the aching emptiness and burning heat that was consuming her, more to the hardness pressed against her so perfectly. She couldn't think through the haze of pleasure that was consuming her, could barely breathe through the overwhelming feelings coursing trough her body for the first time.

His mouth traveled across her collar leaving tiny bruises as he did. Deft fingers found their way under the hem of her shirt drawing intricate patterns into the skin of her stomach, sliding higher and higher as she arched under his palms. His hands were too warm against her, he was practically burning. Gabriel growled against her skin, she never knew she liked those noises so much, and pulled her shirt off smoothly, tossing it away carelessly.

Feverish amber eyes took her in reverently, and she squirmed under the intensity of his gaze. She ached so badly, her body was trembling with need, and she wanted so badly for Gabriel to take her. Slide long fingers inside her, tease her mercilessly as he watched her fall apart against him. Marguerite knew _exactly_ where this was going to lead, just as much as she knew she wasn't ready for it, no matter how badly she wanted it.

"Gabriel," his name left her in a husky rasp, and she could barely recognize her voice. His eyes were on hers instantly, body perfectly still like a newly carved statue. "I just…I'm not ready Gabriel…I want," she looked between them gave him a hungry look letting him see how badly she wanted this, "but I'm not…I can't yet." She reached out and grasped his arm tightly, felt the muscles tense and relax under her touch, "Please don't be mad Gabriel."

He let out a breathless chuckle before pressing his lips to hers tenderly, exploring them slowly as he pulled her into his lap smoothly, "I'm not angry Rita. Never angry. We have," he looked at her joyfully, "all the time in the world."

Marguerite smiled warmly before resting her head on his shoulder softly. "I'm going to say yes by the way," the whole world froze at her words waited with baited breath for what she would say, "just not now. I can't bond with you now, but I will."

Gabriel's arms cradled her close, and she curled into the familiar warmth bonelessly, "Because I'm completely in love with you too."

(A/N): So if anyone is interested here's a link that shows you the outfit Gabriel was wearing. Just for kicks and giggles.

31 DOT media DOT tumblr DOT com/7315fd71ec0692d5dae7ac45e2e7b30d/tumblr_mtgc3q lUMb1rpmwhjo1_1280 DOT png

It's a reference to a movie Richard Speight Jr. was in called Ernest Goes to Camp. I couldn't help myself.


	7. Our Father

Icy rain whipped against Marguerite relentlessly as she made her way into the bustling crowds of the theater district. Macy was at her side the entire way as they skipped along muddy sidewalks, and dodged impatient people. They giggled like children all the way to their destination, and who could blame them? Marguerite had only been 18 for a day after all. A light spattering of rain hailed down from the darkening sky just as the two girls caught sight of their destination. They clutched hands tightly and sprinted into the tiny shop, grateful for the shelter and warmth that wrapped around them securely. The door to the tattoo parlor chimed dimly as it shut behind them.

Marguerite had been saving up for this tattoo since she had seen the design in the window two years ago. Combined with the fact that Steve just so happened to give her the last 100$ she needed during her birthday party the previous night meant that she was walking out of here with her tattoo, no ifs ands or buts about it. Well… as long as Gabriel didn't show up. The stubborn bastard had been dead set against the idea since she brought it up two years ago, and steadily _refused_ to let her get one.

"You're really gonna do this?" Macy let out a nervous grin that only grew when Marguerite nodded her head resolutely.

"Of course I am, I've been waiting for a two years," she walked to the counter confidently, "I'm not going to let anything stop me."

"Except for Gabriel?"

Marguerite ignored the comment smoothly and pointed out the design, paying for it quickly, "Not even Gabriel." She felt a small twinge of guilt for going behind his back to do this. She'd chosen this time of day because she knew he wouldn't be back to see her until late tonight, he was busy taking care of worshipers or some crap like that, but he'd _promised_ he'd be back that night, and Gabriel never broke a promise; at least not to her. Marguerite had never promised him she'd never get the tattoo though, never even _said_ she wouldn't, so she didn't feel _too_ guilty. Even if she felt like she was trying too hard to convince herself of that fact.

"He's going to be so angry."

Marguerite let out a short laugh as she followed the artist into the back rooms Macy in tow. The place was pristine, all stainless steel and sanitary equipment. Marguerite wasn't paying 1000$ for nothing, she'd chosen a pricier place just to be sure it would be good quality.

"Angry doesn't begin to cover it, try explosive." She'd never seen Gabriel angry with _her_, but she'd seen him angry often enough to understand why he was the Archangel of Judgment. The thought of his anger directed at her sent chills down her spine, and she was terrified to realize she didn't know if those chills were good or bad.

The idea of Gabriel, eyes alight with fury, power thrumming through him in a dull roar, fixing all that attention on her in the heat of anger, turned her on _way_ more than she cared to admit. Being honest with herself she knew it only turned her on because it was _safe_ anger, in the back of her mind she knew that Gabriel would never physically hurt her, so his anger lost the edge that it would have held without that knowledge.

"Besides," she shook those thoughts aside and pulled off her shirt smoothly before sitting in the chair in front of her easily, "I'm not going to let him see it until it's completely healed, that way it won't be red and puffy. He can't get angry over art." Her stomach was trying to tie itself into knots, and she was one part nervous three parts terrified. Marguerite knew it was going to hurt; she was getting the damn thing across the expanse of her shoulders after all. She also knew that Gabriel was going to be an absolute _mess_ to deal with after all was said and done.

The artist rolled behind her snapping on plastic gloves, and smearing a thin layer of cool gel against Marguerite's back, the gel tingled and slowly began to numb her skin as she forced herself to relax.

"Sure you wanna do this kid? Once I start there's no going back."

"I'm sure," Marguerite relaxed into the cool leather quietly, only tensing fractionally when a slow hum began to build up behind her. The humming was almost comforting; rhythmic and soothing, giving her something to focus on other than the nervousness resting in her stomach. After a few moments she began to feel a slight pressure on her back, slowly dragging its way across her skin, changing her visibly. It didn't hurt yet, just felt odd, she knew the numbing gel would only work for so long but held onto the stubborn hope that it would hold out the entire time.

No such luck. A few minutes in and her back began to burn, slow at first, but it grew rapidly, roaring to life like a blaze of fire across her skin. She gritted her teeth, and stubbornly refused to make a sound, she couldn't stop now even if she wanted to.

Marguerite felt a cool hand grasp hers, and she turned to face Macy slowly, before giving her a weak smile, "I'm ok Mace." She was, or she would be. It hurt now, but she knew it was going to be _so_ worth it in the end, knew that a few hours of pain would be nothing compared to the art she'd have etched into her skin…well forever.

"It's so pretty," Macy watched the needle pierce her friend's skin over and over, leaving behind a whirlpool of colour in its wake. Colours melded together harmoniously; slowly a picture began to form out of the chaos, popping out through the spattering of colour that marked her friend's pale skin.

Marguerite sat still for hours, gritting her teeth against the forest fire of pain that had situated itself at the top of her back. She was only _slightly_ regretting the tattoo idea, but knew once the needle was done torturing her skin she'd love the damn thing. She just wasn't sure the needle would ever finish its fiery path of pain across her shoulders.

"Bet you wished you had listened to Gabriel right about now."

Marguerite gave her friend a good natured scowl before flipping her off playfully, "Not even a little bit Mace." Marguerite hissed softly when the needle ricochet off bone painfully.

"I'm sorry what was that lie?"

"Fuck you Mace."

"That's what I thought."

The artist chuckled and finally, blessed angels finally, turned off the tattoo gun. "You're all set. Why don't you take a gander, tell me what you think."

Marguerite got off the seat gingerly, trying desperately to keep her shoulders from moving more than was absolutely necessary. Her skin still felt like it was on fire, but the pain was slowly dulling to a muted sting that she knew she could dispel with a few well timed shots of vodka, or, if she was really lucky, well placed angelic hands. She walked up to the giant mirror in the corner of the small room, held her breath and turned to look at her back.

It was exquisite. Two angels spread across her shoulders and upper back in a chaotic mess of colour. A red angel with maroon and black wings stretched arms out toward a pastel angel with flaming gold wings. Their hands met in a mess of colour between her shoulders, never touching, but connected none-the-less. A wide smile split her face, and she met Macy's eyes in the mirror, "Do you see this?" She was practically vibrating with excitement, "This is the greatest tattoo ever!"

Her friend walked forward to study the ink etched into her friend's skin, the clash of colours took her breath away, "Wow…just," she gave the art another appreciative glance, "wow."

Marguerite traced her fingers over the edge of a wing that curled over the top of her shoulder; the skin was tender and flared with pain at the slightest touch. The tattoo was exquisite, well worth the 1000$ and hours of endless pain.

The artist was shooting her slightly subtle appreciative glances and Marguerite was just barely able to remember that she was walking around in a red lace bra with the hooks undone. Feeling reckless she let the artist admire for a few more moments before fixing her bra and pulling on her damp tee-shirt carefully. The slightest brush against her raw skin sent tiny jolts of pain through her back, she hoped like hell it would wear off before Gabriel popped in, because if it lasted that long she probably wouldn't be above begging for some relief.

"Remember to rub Vaseline on it to keep it from scabbing over," the artists held out a small bottle smiling charmingly, "clean it with this and you'll be good in a few days."

"Thanks," Marguerite plucked the bottle out of his hands, careful to keep their fingers from brushing as she did. He was cute and all, but she really didn't want to give him the wrong idea, and if she was being completely honest he really didn't measure up. She was sort of in a not quite engagement with an Archangel, it was like cuddling up with a live wire, no human man could ever compare after that. She kept her smile light and airy though, keeping the rejection out of her face, it wasn't his fault he was human, wasn't his fault Gabriel had ruined all other men for her.

He gave her an easy smile, "Remember me if you ever want more ink."

"Will do." She spared him one last smile before walking out into the pouring rain, Macy in tow. The blonde was giving her reproachful looks, and Marguerite was trying to figure out what she had done this time, she loved Macy to death but recently the girl had decided that she was Marguerite's moral compass, and it rubbed her the wrong way.

"You're not actually going to follow up with that guy are you?" the stuttered words left chattering teeth with no small amount of censure.

"Mace…" Marguerite didn't even bother t hide the irritation in her voice, "I'm not going to follow up anything with him."

"But you were flirting with him."

Marguerite allowed herself a moment to be thoroughly annoyed with her friend's black and white view on everything in life, "No, I was being polite. I wasn't going to completely snub the guy who spent hours working on my skin. I'm sure he has to deal with enough assholes in his day, there's no need to flat out tell him that I'm not interested."

"Good," Marguerite slowed so Macy could keep up with her, her blonde friend smiled brightly, "because I like Gabriel better, and I _totally_ call dibs on Gabriel if you ever leave him."

Marguerite laughed and wrapped an arm around her shorter friend to shield her from the cutting rain, "Dibs? You can't dib my boyfriend." It seemed odd calling him that, felt odd to contain him in such human terms. She and Gabriel just…were. There was no real term for them; they just existed in sync with each other.

"I can dream."

"About my boyfriend?" Marguerite tried to find a cab for them to hail, her friend was shaking violently against her; and the freezing wind and icy rain was starting to numb her skin unpleasantly. No matter how much she loved the rain, she really needed to get them out of it. The streets around them were completely deserted. It seemed like the entire city had taken shelter against the storm. Her eyes darted around and landed on an Old Catholic cathedral on the corner of an abandoned street.

"Let's duck in there Mace."

"In a church?" Her friend shot her a dubious look, "What if they're in the middle of a service? We should just keep going…"

"In case you haven't noticed," Marguerite had to shout to be heard above the din around them, "It's flooding and Noah forgot the ark, there aren't going to be any taxis for at least five more blocks, and we need to get out of the rain till it dies down." Icy wind whipped drenched curls in her face painfully, and shivers racked her body, "We're going to get sick if we stay out in this. We don't have to stay for a long time, just until it calms down out here."

Macy finally nodded her consent and the girls ran across the street, splashing wildly through puddles and pulling the heavy oak door of the church open in front of them. The space inside was cozy, and the warm air smelt of incense and candles. A small service was being held in Latin, and Marguerite's eyes skipped over the congregation, making sure none of the people sequestered in the pews were demons. That had been a spectacular conversation with Gabriel, and she could still feel the residual horror over the fact that the things she'd seen all her life were demons, but she'd only ever seen one angel. Brown eyes danced over bowed heads carefully; they were all clear, but Marguerite couldn't see a priest watching over his wayward flock.

Macy clutched her arm, and jumped when a young priest practically materialized in front of them.

"How can I help you ladies?" For some reason his smile reminded Marguerite of oil slicks and tar pits. He held out his hand politely, "I'm Father Zachariah."

Marguerite took his hand gingerly and shook it slightly, desperately trying to hide the disgusted shudder that ran through her body. Something was off about this priest, she looked at him for a moment and the impression of rotting wings came to her mind before she was faced with his true form. She could easily tell he was an angel, but he possessed only two wings instead of six, so Marguerite figured that he wasn't as powerful as Gabriel. His form terrified her, while Gabriel's had always seemed natural this was completely inhuman, and she couldn't push the image of rotting flesh out of her mind, "Anne." She fell back on her middle name, aware that some supernatural creatures could use names as power, "Do you mind if we dry off in the restroom?"

"Of course not child," was it her imagination or was his smile predatory, "feel free."

She dragged an indignant Macy into the women's restroom before locking the door securely. She stared at it blankly, tuning out Macy's rant. Something was wrong with that angel; something bad was going to happen. Marguerite could feel it as keenly as the cold clothes on her body.

The song the congregation sang drifted through the door. _Miserere Mei, Deus_. The words swirled around them and Marguerite felt sick, the imprint of rotting wings was etched into the back of her eyes, she could see them clearly every time she blinked.

"Oh God…" she clutched her stomach and let her head rest against the mirror over a dingy sink.

Silence met her words, and she could see Macy's concerned eyes in the mirror, "Marguerite…?"

The song stretched out in front of them words spilled forth in a language she'd taught herself to understand. The song was about hope and forgiveness, but the words seemed to take on an entirely new meaning. She wished like hell she could summon Gabriel to her, but she couldn't chance it.

Ecce enim in iniquitatibus conceptus sum: the words echoed in her head and she translated them quietly almost robotically, "Behold I was shapen in wickedness…" She clutched her head tightly tried to drown out the foreboding swelling inside her. The song proceeded normally, but she felt an unopposable urge to translate the words from Latin to English. Filling the dim bathroom with words that now seemed ominous, Docebo iniquos vias tuas: "Then shall I teach Thy ways unto the wicked…"

The screaming started right as the words left her lips. Chilling sounds of terror that made her skin crawl. Her eyes turned toward the door in horror; adrenalin swelled in her veins, freezing time to the slowest crawl. Macy was panicking behind her, and Marguerite had to get her out of the open. She shoved Macy into a stall with rushed jumbles of platitudes. She didn't have time to comfort her friend, didn't have time to spare. She jammed the stall shut as if aluminum sheets and steel bolts could keep out an angel of the Lord.

She opened the door to a blood bath; the angel was massacring the congregation slowly, with an expression that would have been more appropriate for a pleasant stroll through a park. The look in his eyes was one of utter disgust as he pulled limbs from screaming women, and gouged out the eyes of praying men. The alter was spattered in congealing blood, and Marguerite barely kept her stomach from rebelling at the stench of death that permeated the building like a curse.

She spied a small group of children huddled in the corner closest to her; a little boy was standing with his arms outstretched in front of the little group. His little lips moved in silent prayer and he kept a hopeless vigil over the children behind him, willing to sacrifice himself to keep his friends safe. Marguerite knew without a doubt that the angel was saving them for last, just as she knew that there was no way in hell that little boy cold save his friends on his own.

She bolted back into the bathroom, her own lips tumbling over confession, "Our Father who art in heaven hallowed be thy name,"

She was praying desperately; not even sure if God could hear her through the sounds of carnage. She knew the confession wouldn't really help, didn't do anything, but it focused her mind through the terror, gave her a thread of hope to cling to.

"Thy kingdom come thy will be done on earth as it is in heaven,"

Gabriel had taught her how to banish an angel. Shown her in his blood how to draw each individual symbol, had her dip pale fingers in his blood to make her own matching one. At the time it had made her sick seeing his blood dripping onto her carpet, and being painted against a pale blue wall where it dripped down as it congealed slowly. Now all she wanted to do was remember the damn symbol.

"Give us this day our daily bread, and forgive us our trespasses, as we forgive those who trespass against us,"

Marguerite had no doubt in her mind that some of those adults had deserved their punishment, but those children? No. Never. They were innocent, they could become something, and she would rather make a deal with the devil himself than let them die under the hands of a creature that was supposed to be merciful. She knew angels were warriors, that the idea of fluffy wings and peace was a western idea and full of crap. She also knew that angels were made as servants, and this one seemed to be straying from its master.

"And lead us not into temptation, but deliver us from evil,"

Lead her. Have mercy on the little boy with his arms outstretched before his flock of children. Have mercy on the little girl who had been huddled behind him clutching his leg and crying as if the world was ending. Maybe it was.

"For thine is the kingdom and the power and the glory, forever and ever, Amen."

She slammed her fist into the mirror; let the shards crumble around her feet before picking one up carefully. The edge was sharp, and she could see the desperation in her eyes through the tiny shard. She turned it downward and ran out; the angel didn't notice her, or if he did he was too busy finishing off the adults to care about her. The children were crying, the little sobs and whimpers set her teeth on edge, but she knelt before them anyway.

The shard of glass dug into her palm painfully, and she took a breath to steady herself, before pressing the tip of the shard into her wrist. Brown eyes met green and she smiled at the little boy comfortingly, "Look away."

He listened instantly, huddling down with the other children, urging them to close their eyes, only letting his fall shut when all theirs were. Marguerite felt a swell of pride for this unknown child, she looked over her shoulder watching the angel cautiously, before making a deep cut against her pale skin. The glass burned as it dragged across her flesh leaving an uneven gouge in the unmarked skin, blood welled up slowly, then in a river. Thick and sticky it raced down her arm and began to drop in little dots at her feet. Her head swam and she fell to both knees before dipping her fingers in the thick liquid and drawing an archaic symbol on the ground quickly.

She had no idea if this was even the right symbol, she had no clue if she'd actually gotten all the little marks drawn the right way, but she had to hope. She finished just as the last of the screams died down to silence.

She spun around and watched as the angel made his was down the pews toward them calmly. The bastard knew they were trapped, and he was letting her know that she couldn't run. She was filled with an inexplainable anger. Fury really. This ass hat was an _angel_, and he was showing less mercy than some of the demons she'd seen.

"There's really nothing you mud monkeys can do."

"That's what you think; you junk less piece of worthless crap."It was almost comical that even faced with possible death she was unwilling to swear in front of children, she laughed mentally and figured she still had her priorities straight.

"Excuse me?"

She didn't even bother to answer, just held up a bloody hand and watched as his eyes widened in understanding. He lunged for her, but her hand landed on the symbol before he could touch her. Bright light flared out of him, racing from his eyes and mouth; filling the church with an unbearable light, before the priest's body fell to the ground empty.

The room swam around her sickeningly, she could vaguely hear Macy screaming hysterically the sound echoing somewhere in the back of her mind. Black spots danced before her, like the room was a strip of film slowly burning away before her eyes. She looked down at the small puddle forming under her wrist, her skin was so pale, and she was so cold.

"Gabriel…" maybe it's a prayer, maybe it's a plea, but his name left her lips as the floor rushed up to meet her head and the world around her faded to nothing.

She woke to the hushed sound of a whispered argument. Her head throbbed painfully, and she keeps her eyes clenched shut tightly. There was something soft under her, and she was only half aware that she wasn't in the dark cathedral anymore. She was in a place that smelt distinctly of candy and lighting. She could hear two men arguing, one frustrated voice familiar, the other slightly British and unknown.

"You need to bond to her now Gabriel. You nearly lost it when you found her. You can't keep doing this."

"It's not time yet. Not time."

"When will it be time? When she's dead?"

"When she tells me it's time."

Marguerite opened her eyes slowly; thankful for the flickering candles that dimly lit the giant room, she wasn't sure she could have dealt with full blown lights. She turned her head carefully, to see Gabriel leaning against a wall; he was looking at a man she'd never seen before. Gabriel looked so lost; she'd hadn't seen such a vulnerable expression on his face since he'd practically proposed to her years ago.

"Looks like she's awake Gabriel."

Gold eyes fell on her and she was suddenly enveloped in strong arms. He'd moved across the room faster than she could comprehend, and the show of power was comforting. She pressed closer to him desperately, clinging to his shirt and burying her face in his chest. His lips traced the top of her head and he rocked her smoothly muttering in a language that had no meaning to her, his soft voice holding all the power of thunder.

"I thought I lost you Marguerite," he crushed her closer and she welcomed it, "I almost lost you. You were so still and bloody," his voice shook, and a small flair of electricity raced along her skin pleasantly.

Her eyes burned and she fought against the sobs building up in her chest. She wanted this day to start over, wanted to stay home and give up on the tattoo. She wished she had just waited until Gabriel could take her.

"Well if this isn't the most romantic fucking thing I've ever seen then I don't know what is," the British voice broke through Gabriel's arm's and she turned to face him, able to find the faint trace of concern that flowed through the arrogant tone.

"Who's he?" Marguerite kept a firm hold on Gabriel, and he didn't let go, merely shifted so she was held snug in his lap.

"Balthazar. He's the only angel in existence that knows I'm still alive," warm lips traced her forehead slowly, "I chose him to be my second."

"Second?"

Balthazar conjured a chair from nowhere and sat in it lightly, "When angels first started bonding," the man crossed his arms and leaned back comfortably, "A.K.A a long fucking time ago, there was a war going on. God commanded his angels to wipe out the nephelim. Angels were dying left and right. Chaos and anarchy and dead things," he smirked and winked at her, "oh my. That left a good number of bonded on their own, which is not a good thing, especially for the human bonded." Balthazar took in her surprised face and gave her a knowing look, "Oh yes, _human. _Gabriel isn't quite as taboo as he'd like to think he is. A second was someone who an angel entrusted with their bonded mate, kind of like a godparent for a widow."

"Basically I gave him permission to use his grace on you in the event that I'm not around." Gabriel held her closer nuzzled into her curls carefully, "Angels can't use their grace on you with the intent to harm. When we bond I'll be the only angel in existence who can use grace on you without permission. If I die," Marguerite clutched him tighter at the thought, didn't even bother to keep down the terrified whimper that escaped her at the idea of being left alone, "he watches over you."

Marguerite let her head rest against Gabriel's chest, for some reason it bothered her that he didn't have a heartbeat, he never had; but the lack of sound bothered her. She didn't know she was shaking until Gabriel and Balthazar both sent her concerned looks, she tried to get a hold of herself, but just couldn't. It had been a really bad day, and she really couldn't handle all the crap.

"Come here love," Balthazar held out his hand passively, "that fluff ball obviously doesn't know how to comfort a distraught woman."

Underneath the cocky words she could detect concern, that, and the small nudge Gabriel gave her, prompted her to take his hand carefully and be pulled into unfamiliar arms. It felt odd to be passed from Gabriel's lap into another man's.

Gabriel obviously thought so too, his hawk like eyes flashed with a viscous light, Balthazar only snorted in response, "Don't you give me that look Gabriel," he gave Marguerite an indignant look, "I leave an orgy to help this bastard and he give me evil looks," he looked at Marguerite gave her the slightest twitch of a smile, "that's what I get for leaving my hedonist ways."

"You're still a hedonist," Gabriel's tone was dry, but an underlying thread of mischief was once again present, "you just know better than to say no to an archangel."

"Arch pain in the arse more like," warm fingers carded through her curls lightly even if this angel was only concerned over her for Gabriel's sake it felt nice to have another person care.

Marguerite smiled lightly, the gentle banter between the two put her at ease. She relaxed slightly into Balthazar's arms, egged on by the knowledge that his feelings were obviously platonic.

"That's right. I'm the big brother angel."

"Don't read my mind."

"Bossy little woman," he shot Gabriel a look, "she always order you around like this?"

"Of course," Gabriel eyes were loving, "I'd be a fool not to listen."

"Hell hath no fury."

"Amen to that brother."

"Helllllo," Marguerite waved her arms overdramatically, "woman sitting right here. I can hear everything you're saying."

"So that's what the thing in my lap is," Balthazar winked playfully and tugged a curl gently, "if you play really nice I'll tell you were he's ticklish."

"The inside of his arms," Marguerite smiled a bit able to push the day out of her mind with the playful aura that surrounded the two men, "not that hard to figure out."

"Well damn," Balthazar's tone was dry, "here I thought I was the smart one." He stood and deposited her in Gabriel's lap, "I've got to run; there's an orgy waiting for me. You two love birds play safe." He clapped his hands and disappeared quickly.

"Does he really have an orgy to get back to?"

"I wouldn't doubt it," Gabriel gave her an unfathomable look, before his fingers tangled in her hair firmly. He let his head fall forward to rest against hers gently, "What am I going to do with you? You're always getting hurt." Gold eyes flashed, "I cannot lose you, I refuse to be without you."

"You won't lose me Gabriel," she wound pale fingers into his honey hair contently, enjoying the inhuman warmth that flowed from his tense body, "I couldn't call you Gabriel, and there were," brown eyes closed wearily, "there were children Gabriel. This one boy stood in front of all of them, he couldn't have been more than ten and he was already willing to die for them. I couldn't leave them to die."

"You wouldn't be you if you did."

They sat in comfortable silence for a few moments, tangled up happily on a tiny couch in an unfamiliar room. Gabriel held her close, letting his wings surge out to surround her gently. His little human was so fragile, but so strong he wondered if anything could really break her.

"So how's the tattoo feeling?"

She stiffened subtly in his arms before looking up at him, "You know about the tattoo?"

"I know about the tattoo."

"You're not angry?"

"You almost died today," Gabriel's eyes flashed again, "I don't have it in me to be angry over a damn tattoo. So how is it?"

Marguerite smiled impishly, "It stings, but other than that it's fine."

"Can I see it?"

"You mean the all knowing archangel doesn't know what it is?"

Gabriel tickled her playfully delighting in her tiny shrieks of laughter, "I don't know what it is, and therefore I'd like to see it."

"Then let go of me," she pushed at the solid wall of his chest futilely, "I have to take off my shirt for you to see it."

She felt Gabriel's arms leave her reluctantly and her fingers found the edge of her shirt quickly. She paused for a moment, for some reason she was nervous about taking any clothes off in front of him. This was Gabriel, he was practically perfect, what if she wasn't enough?

"What ever silly thoughts you're thinking get them out of your head," Gabriel rested against the couch comfortably, watching her intently, "I love you."

She smiled warmly letting his words fill her before returning them confidently, "I love you too." She pulled the shirt over her head smoothly, let it fall in a stiff pile at her feet, she reached behind her back and undid her bra carefully, laughing at the dumbfounded expression on Gabriel's face, "Don't get your hopes up, the tattoo goes across my shoulders, I have to undo the strap for you to see it properly."

"Do you hear me complaining?"

Marguerite laughed warmly, brown eyes sparking before turning around to let him see the tattoo etched into her skin. It didn't feel odd to have Gabriel's eyes on her like she thought it would, just warm. She could practically feel the path his eyes traced across her skin.

She jumped slightly when the tips of warm fingers traced across abused skin carefully. His fingers left a wake of relief across her back, and she had the feeling he was healing the damage that had been done from the hours of having a needle jabbed into her skin.

"You're beautiful," his lips found the back of her neck, and traced a gently pattern across the tattoo, mapping out the new addition to her body with reverence.

She closed her eyes and let her head fall forward slightly. Warmth was slowly spreading across her body from the light touches his lips dropped against her skin. She bit her lip thoughtfully; Gabriel always treated her so carefully, always did what made her happy. Now she wanted to make _him_ happy. She let her bra slide down her arms slowly, the red fabric slid down her skin subtly enough, and Gabriel wasn't aware of its fall until it hit the floor in a splash of red.

He stiffened behind her, lips hovering above her skin questioningly. They'd never gotten farther than kissing, had always kept a physical limit. Marguerite realized it was because she was scared, scared of what giving herself to him would mean, terrified of what she would lose. After seeing that insane angel in that church, she realized there were worst things on this earth to fear than the unknown, and no matter what Gabriel would never let anything hurt her.

Marguerite let her hands fall to rest over his where they grasped her hips; she took a deep breath and began to slowly drag his warm palms up her sides. Her skin hummed pleasantly where his hands traveled, and there was a languid tightening low in her stomach that she savored. Gabriel seemed to have finally caught up with her, because his fingers disentangled from hers and slowly began to trace intricate paths up her rib cage; they teased her sides before slowly moving forward to her front.

Gabriel's forehead came to rest on the curve of her shoulder as his warm palms cupped her breasts slowly. Marguerite felt her face heat up, and she bit her lip sharply before arching into his touch shyly, his skin was fiery against hers; heat pooled in her stomach causing her to ache deliciously. Her breath slammed out of her lungs in a rush when dexterous fingers found her nipples and began to rub them gently.

A low whine escaped her lips and she pressed back against him desperate for more. He kissed along her shoulder gently, teeth stinging her skin in random patterns. His lips hovered over her pulse and his fingers curved to cup her entire breast alternating between squeezing and rolling her nipples carefully.

A dark chuckle escaped him and it sent liquid heat surging through her body. She wanted more, could barely think through the haze that covered her mind. "Gabriel…" she hardly recognized the breathless whisper that tumbled from her lips. Marguerite had never felt so alive, and all she could do was hope for more.

She was in his lap before she could blink, his angelic speed had spun her and pulled her onto him faster than her mind could comprehend, and the show of power thrilled her. Marguerite tangled her fingers in his honey hair, met electric gold eyes hungrily. His eyes traced over her skin reverently, before leaning forward and capturing her nipple between his lips. Gabriel let out a possessive growl when her fingers gripped his hair to the point of pain, and breathy moans tumbled from her lips helplessly when his fingers came to tease her other nipple lightly.

Marguerite saw stars when his teeth scrapped across her sensitive flesh, "Fuck! Again…" the words left her in a breathy hiss, and she desperately tried to keep her mind together enough to keep from pulling his hair out. His lips traveled across her chest humming with electricity and power the entire way before finding her neglected nipple and tormenting her until she was on the verge of losing her mind. Marguerite finally understood the fixation everyone had with sex, understood why so many people were willing to go to such lengths to feel like this.

Her fingers scrambled at the buttons on his shirt growling in frustration when they wouldn't come undone. The growl faded to a disgustingly pleased noise when he snapped his fingers and the shirt was gone, leaving his golden skin bare to her touch. Her fingers roamed his chest curiously as his lips began tracing a path up her chest, leaving tiny nips and bruises as they traced the swell of her breasts leisurely.

Gabriel's fingers unbuttoned her jeans slowly, letting them gape open slightly before tracing the pads of his fingers over the delicate skin at her waist line, "Let's talk about this kiddo."

Marguerite groaned and shot him an evil look, "Calling me kiddo at a time like this is defiantly unsexy. New rule, no unsexy during sexy."

He kissed her apologetically, letting his tongue trace across her lower lip slowly before pulling back to look at her calmly. There was a trace of predatory hunger in his eyes, "You need to be sure about this. I don't want your first time to be fueled by more adrenalin than want," he cupped her face softly, and Marguerite felt like she should be at least a little embarrassed for sitting in his lap topless, but she just felt comfortable.

"It's not Gabriel," her fingers ran over his strong shoulders slowly, "I want you. I want this."

"Why now kiddo?"

"Again with the kiddo…" she gave him a good natured scowl before shrugging lazily, "I realized I was afraid of this. Afraid of becoming more with you," her eyes met his and his hands came to rest over hers comfortingly, "I don't know how to do any of this. The only relationships I've seen have failed spectacularly. Then there was that angel today," fear crept into her mind but she forced it away stubbornly, "I realized that I have more to fear then a relationship, I don't know what to do now but I'll learn along the way."

Gabriel's ran down her sides thoughtfully, he let his fingers trace her skin before he spoke again, "Look holding back isn't really my thing. If we start this there's no guarantee that I'm not going to bond with you accidently. My grace is always so close to the surface, and there's no telling if I'll really be able to contain it."

"You've had sex before Gabriel," _loads_ of times, he'd bragged about his numerous conquests since she'd become a teenager, "you're not bonded to them."

"None of them meant anything Marguerite."

She ran her palms over his chest pensively, feeling his skin pressed against hers, enjoying the warmth radiating off of him. Bonding with him seemed like such a huge deal, but really how different would it be? She was already stuck with him, knew there was never going to be anything else for her but Gabriel. All bonding would do was make it official, what was so terrifying about that?

"Then bond with me," laughter escaped her at his expression; "I'm fine with it, in fact do it anyway. Purposeful or not I want you, I'm already yours Gabriel."

A slow smile curved against his lips and he gave her a mischievous look, "Who am I to say no to a pretty lady?" He snapped his fingers and they were suddenly in his bed. Gabriel had taken the liberty of vanishing their clothes; they were pressed together in the silks sheets, every inch of bare skin pressed together intimately.

Marguerite buried her face in his shoulder nervously, her hips were cradling his perfectly and she could feel his erection pressed into the inside of her thighs, it was exhilarating and slightly terrifying and she caught herself moving between both emotions rapidly.

He cupped her face gently and guided her lips to his smoothly. He kissed her languidly, giving her time to relax and get used to the feeling of skin against hers, he nibbled at her bottom lip lightly, and slid his tongue out to meet hers, growling lowly when she did the same.

Marguerite ran her hands up his back slowly, mapping out the feel of his skin before digging her nails into his shoulder blades gently. The effect was immediate, his hips arched into hers and he let out an inhuman sound of want that set her blood on fire.

The kiss turned rough and messy as she dragged her nails down his skin, focusing on the muscles of his shoulders. Her hips tilted up to meet his and she whimpered softly at the foreign sensations, it felt so good to have him pressed against her; she desperately wanted more from him, couldn't take the slow pace that he had set between them.

"Make it hard for a guy to be slow Rita," trickster fingers were tracing a fiery path up the inside if her thigh, her legs fell open helplessly and she surged her hips forward trying to urge him on.

"I'm not going to break Gabriel."

He nipped her ear softly, voice warm against her skin, "No you're not," his fingers circled before pushing inside her slowly, setting her blood on fire and making her skin blaze, "but that doesn't mean I'm going to rush this."

Helpless sounds of want escaped kiss swollen lips. Marguerite had never felt like this before, it was so much more intense with Gabriel's fingers inside her, his thumb found her clit as his fingers pushed deeper and she practically _wailed_. Her fingers clutched his shoulders desperately and she bit into his pulse as pleasure rushed through her.

"You have no idea what you look like," his voice was a low groan and it rumbled like thunder through her, "so open to me, my fingers inside you," said fingers found a spot inside her that made her see stars, and she tugged at his hair desperately, "you're so fucking tight Rita, you're going to feel so good."

Marguerite had the vaguest feeling that an archangel dirty talking should have been odd, but she couldn't really complain because his words sent s a surge of wet heat through her. If Gabriel didn't pick up the pace she was going to burn to ash. "Now," she clawed his back insistently, "want you now, all of you."

His fingers left her at an achingly slow speed, and she felt empty until she felt the tip of him press against her carefully. Brown eyes met gold as he pushed in languidly. It hurt, but not as badly as she'd been told to expect. Muscles were stretching in ways they weren't accustomed to; Gabriel's low moan would have been worth any amount of pain anyway. He pressed in until her hips were cradling his perfectly, and she felt so full. She hummed contently and tried to move her hips, but Gabriel's kept her in place.

He was muttering something in his strange language, before strong hands held her hips and he began to move. It was wonderful, and electrifying, and awkward. Marguerite didn't know exactly how to move her hips in rhythm with his, wasn't quite so good at keeping her hips at a good angle. Gabriel kissed a path back down her chest, completely unconcerned with the un-rhythmic pace. Sharp teeth found her nipple and teased it until she was crying out, body somehow finding a natural rhythm against him.

Even if it wasn't perfect it was amazing. Her skin tingled with electricity everywhere he touched, and her hip was starting to thrum with a low ache that only added to the consuming pleasure flowing through her. Her cries mixed with his low growls and his thrusts took on a more animalistic feel. Marguerite felt her body wind tighter and tighter with every jarring thrust of his hips, her nails dung into his skin leaving little red rivets that healed over almost instantly.

"Gabriel...I…" she lost her voice as she exploded around him. Marguerite shook through the pleasure, burying her face in his shoulder and whimpering helplessly as she came down from the most euphoric high she'd ever felt. She was surprised when fire raced through her hip painfully and a blinding white light shone through the room as she was filled with unfamiliar warmth.

When everything cleared she felt odd, as if there were something pressing at the back of her mind subtly. She ran shaky fingers across the back of her head, half convinced she'd find something there.

"It's our bond," Gabriel's voice drifted up from where his head was resting on her sternum, gold eyes looked up at her shining with a mischievous light, "you'll always be able to feel me there. My grace is tied in with your soul Rita," he let his forehead rest against hers, "feels kinda ticklish…"

Marguerite laughed, "Ticklish? You're the master of romance aren't you?"

"I do try," Gabriel wound his fingers in her wild curls and kissed her smoothly, "I love you."

"I love you too."

Gabriel pulled her close, encasing her in his warmth, his breath traveled against messy curls soothingly. Strong fingers entwined with hers above their heads, anchoring them together in the tangled sheets and sea of pillows that covered the bed.

"Remind me to teach you how to banish an angel Rita."

Confusion swam through her, and she turned her head lazily to look at him, "Gabriel I already know how."

"The symbol you drew was wrong, you the center right but that was it."

A cold chill ran down her spine and she stared at him silently. If she hadn't drawn the symbol correctly then how the hell was she still alive, and what had happened to that angel?

_Sometimes my Father works in mysterious ways kiddo._

It took Marguerite a moment to realize Gabriel hadn't spoken aloud, when she did her face lit up and the miss-drawn symbol was pushed to the back of her mind, "We can talk telepathically?!"

A warm chuckle drifted across her mind, and Gabriel buried his face in her curls wrapping one arm around her waist possessively. _I can, you just have to think at me._

_Oh._ She smiled at him and snuggled closer, _so we can talk like this?_ A dull ache was forming between her eyes and Gabriel soothed it away with gentle fingers.

"I said _I_ can Rita, you shouldn't answer back like that often, your head will not thank you."

"No fair," she stifled a yawn in his shoulder and cuddled against him peacefully. She was fighting to keep her eyes open, and Gabriel's fingers in her hair defiantly didn't help. She was drifting closer and closer to the edge of consciousness, and she couldn't stop her rapid decent.

"I'm an archangel kiddo; there are a lot of not fair things involved." Warm lips brushed her temple in a whisper of feeling, and she was out.

* * *

(A/N): Sorry this chapter took so long. I've been really insanely sick recently, and the stuff I wrote while I was sick made 0% sense. Here's a link to Marguerite's tattoo :D Just remove the spaces replace the DOT with a . and add and you should be good to go.

mayhemandmuse DOT com/wp-content/uploads/2012/06/angels-and-demons-t attoo-design-chest-painting-on-skin-creatiev-artis tic-watercolor DOT jpg


	8. Seconds

Marguerite slammed her head onto her desk for the fifth time in less than an hour. Whoever said that college was easy was a filthy, filthy liar. She had so much homework to catch up on, and five billion projects to do and paperwork she needed to finish before she left for China; it didn't help that every time Gabriel picked up on her distress through their bond he came to "rescue" her from whatever was troubling her at the time. Usually with sex; not that she was complaining, because Gabriel definitely knew what he was doing in bed.

But they'd become so empty lately. The sex was just sex, the conversation void of real meaning. It had been going on for a while; she just didn't have the time to really fix it. Gabriel had everything under control anyway. He could fix it.

Marguerite let her head rest on the cool, faux wood of her desk, before wearily sorting through the mountain of paperwork piled up beside her. She didn't even jump when a pair of strong hands landed on her shoulders gently and began kneading the tense muscles; there was something off about the touch though…something distant.

"Busy night Kiddo?"

Marguerite hummed in confirmation and tried desperately not to fall asleep under Gabriel's skilled fingers, "You have no idea."

He sat in an empty chair beside her, golden eyes traveled over her work silently. Silence engulfed them; it wasn't the comfortable silence she'd grown accustomed to after three years of being bonded. There were times when they were able to communicate just as easily without words as they could with words. Sometimes it gave Marguerite the chills; Gabriel was an archangel, and there were times when she could read him like the front page of a newspaper. Tonight, however, it was impossible to get a read on him, and the silence was thick and oppressive.

"You do know that it's a Friday night..."

Marguerite huffed out a low sigh and continued on with her paperwork. She was leaving for China in a few days, and desperately needed to make sure everything was in order, "Well aware Gabriel. Thanks for the public service announcement." Her voice was terse, subconsciously reacting to the undercurrents of…something in the air.

"Then why," he took her work from her and ignored her protests easily, "are you holed up in a dorm room doing paperwork like an antisocial little bug?" His teasing seemed forced, like he was running through the motions without putting any feeling behind them.

"Because I am an 'antisocial little bug'," she reached for her work and flailed her hands when it was held out of her reach, "Gabriel seriously, I need to do my work."

"Do you even know what tonight is?"

She looked at him wearily, "It is Friday, September 14. That's what day it is."

"Nothing more important than that?" There was a hurt tone underlying in his voice it was the only real emotion he'd shown tonight; golden eyes were watching her for any sign of knowledge.

"It's just a damn day Gabriel." it had been a long one too; she was tired and frustrated and she wanted to get her work done.

"It's our anniversary Marguerite." It was absolutely never a good sign when Gabriel used her first name outside of sex. "Three years we've been bonded. That's what tonight is." His voice was flat, golden eyes stared out the window with a forced air of nonchalance; he was trying to play over like it didn't matter.

"Oh…" she looked at him quietly, wondering how the hell she'd managed to forget something like that. Not that she was really surprised given how distant they'd been recently. She couldn't squash the flair of guilt she felt though, and she reached out to Gabriel, only to have the angel walk away from her stiffly. Marguerite sighed heavily and looked at the ceiling hoping that it would miraculously hold all the answers to life. Being married was hard, it seemed like this took so much more work that anything else in her life ever had.

Gabriel was staring out her dorm window, back rigid. Marguerite could see the outline of his wings when lightning flashed outside; they were held aloft, feathers flared and shaking in agitation. She'd really hurt him, and it cut. Marguerite knew she wasn't putting as much effort into their bond as Gabriel was, he remembered the dates, set up the outings, came by for cuddles, worked out problems. For the most part Marguerite was along for the ride; it bugged her that she was so content to let him work out everything between them.

She padded over to him silently, bare feet scratching across rough carpet with tiny whooshes of displaced air. She wound her arms around him and let her head rest between his shoulders gently. Invisible feathers stroked across her face gently, sending tiny shocks of electricity racing through her skin. Her hands moved to rest over where his heart should have been beating and curled into the thin expanse of tee shirt there. Gabriel's fingers moved to tangle in her own as he gazed out into the raging storm that shook her campus. It was odd how many important moments between them happened in the rain.

"Being bonded…" she nuzzled closer to him, anchored herself in his warmth, "it's hard."

"I know it is kiddo." His voice was low, but it filled the room with unspoken power. She knew it was a lot harder for Gabriel, but he always let it slide; let everything be pushed under the rug.

"I should try harder."

"You do the best you can with the time you have Marguerite, I can't ask for more than that."

"I should make more time."

Really it _was_ just that simple. She was just so unused to thinking in terms of a literal forever; so used to counting the seconds as time passed by in the breeze. She had all the time in existence to get this degree, all the time she could fathom to explore the world. She was twenty-one and she would forever be eighteen.

"No," Gabriel turned to face her and held her, surrounded her with the familiar scent of lightening. He hadn't smelt of candy recently, they hadn't been happy recently either. Marguerite worried constantly that they'd jumped into this bonding thing way too quickly. She was terrified that it would fall apart underneath them that the connection and love they held would fade to nothing.

"I want more time." She really did. Marguerite knew she hadn't put enough effort into this. Knew that the growing void between them was something she could have stopped a long time ago.

An outsider would have been confused at the connection between a forgotten anniversary and a void. Because people forgot dates all the time, it happened. Loss of time, forgetting of time. Marguerite knew it was more than that, could feel the distance in their bond. They bickered all the time, over the smallest dumbest things, she never had enough time for him, and he always needed her at the worst moments. Somewhere in that tangled mess of life they'd stopped trying to fix it. Just drifted along their train wreck not knowing when it would finally crash.

Marguerite had a feeling that the crash was coming.

"Look Marguerite…" Gabriel's golden eyes never found hers; they stayed glued to the storm outside, familiar hands kept only the slightest touch against her, "this isn't working out. This is…" he looked down at her, and there was a terrifying finality in his eyes, "we need to stop. We need some distance."

Panic filled her, and it was funny to her that she was finally snapping out of the apathetic haze that had surrounded their relationship right as he was giving into it. "Gabriel…" she tried to find something to say, something to refute his words. She could think fluently in four languages, argue points, express ideas, and when she needed it most language failed her entirely. She couldn't think of a single word to say, couldn't find an excuse.

The seconds that she still counted ticked by endlessly, and Gabriel gave her a rueful smile, "I'm not going with you to China." Finality rang in his words and she could only look at him blankly, "I'll have Balthazar help you pack, but Marguerite," he stepped away from her and the distance was shocking, the bond that always hummed in the back of her mind was cut off abruptly, "I'm not coming for you this time. At the end of the year we'll see…" he shook his head honey hair flying in his face, "we'll see how much has really changed."

"Gabriel please," her eyes stung like fire and she reached out to him helplessly, "Please don't…" He was already gone.

The silence was thick; she could hear it pressing in on her. The room swam and she sank to her knees numbly. She hadn't thought…had never imagined this. She knew it was bad, knew their problems had been mounting, but for Gabriel to leave…he'd never left. Tears streamed down her face and dripped to the floor in tiny plinks.

She stared out the window into the storm, praying and praying, practically screaming in her head. Gabriel never came. She fell asleep against the window screaming futile prayers in her empty head.

The next day was no better. She'd stared out the window silently, until her roommate threatened to drag her to the clinic. Marguerite had gotten up stiffly, didn't bother to change, and walked out. She continued on with her day normally, she turned in her paperwork, worked out the final details of her trip, then went back to her dorm and stared at the boxes she was suppose to pack blankly.

"Hello Marguerite."

She didn't look at Balthazar, didn't acknowledge his presence. Marguerite stared at the boxes in front of her wondering how it all went so wrong. Wondering why she'd had to fight so hard all her life to be happy for such short amounts of time.

"Marguerite look at me," Balthazar was kneeling at her feet, hands pressed to her knees, "Marguerite it's not as bad as it seems…"

She looked at him silently, couldn't summon up enough effort to answer him. Not as bad? It was worse.

"Love…" Balthazar sighed lowly and pulled her up carefully, "Start packing. We'll talk while you do."

Marguerite nodded numbly, she began packing up her life and putting it into little boxes that would be shipped across the world to a lonely apartment that she would share with no one. Her mind was achingly empty, and she couldn't even feel the faintest hint of Gabriel there. Couldn't feel the low hum of vibrancy he carried around with him.

"You need this kid."

She shot him the dirtiest look she could muster under the circumstances. She wondered if this is what Lucifer felt like when he was booted out of heaven. Cut off, empty, and alone. If it was she sure sympathized with the guy, because this was consuming.

"Hear me out before you crucify me." He sat on her small bed and watched her warily, "Relationships take a certain amount of maturity. They take work, they take dedication, they take compromise, and you just don't have enough inner knowledge and maturity Marguerite."

"Is this supposed to be helping me?" She threw things into boxes with little care for how they landed. She grasped onto the anger because it was better to feel something than nothing. Better to be on fire than be numb.

"You've never been on your own," Balthazar snapped his fingers and her boxes and suitcase were packed neatly. "You've never had the opportunity to live for yourself, to take care of yourself, and to really learn who you are." He patted the bed next to him invitingly.

Marguerite stared at him for a few seconds, before plopping down next to him bonelessly. "Why do I need all of that? Why can't it just work?"

"Because if you don't know how to live on your own take care of yourself and love yourself, how can you possibly do all that with someone else?"

Marguerite tried to find an answer to that, tried to think of some brilliant thing to say, but in the end she could find nothing. She gave into to the truth of his statement without a fight, gave in to the knowledge she knew he possessed.

"Is he ever going to come back?"

"Of course he is," Balthazar stood up and looked at her kindly, "he's never had it in him to stay away from you. He won't be back until he's good and ready though. And really," he patted her head fondly, "what's a year to you two? It's nothing. Gabriel will be back."

He left shortly after, left her alone to let his words take full effect. It was terrifying being on her own. Marguerite didn't even know if Gabriel would save her in an emergency. This was the first time in her entire life that she'd been left to her own devices, and a growing part of her was excited. She'd never had an identity outside of the people she was always around, never had a moment without Gabriel. Now she could. It still hurt, and she was still upset by his absence, she still felt numb over the loss. Marguerite knew she would get better.

She got on her plane a few days later, ready to start this adventure. And for once she wasn't counting the seconds.


End file.
